


the stars agree

by utterly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 10 things AU diverges greatly, Alternate Universe - 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cosette Montparnasse and Enjolras are siblings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Montparnasse and Enjolras are twins, Multi, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Other, Trans Montparnasse, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterly/pseuds/utterly
Summary: In which Montparnasse challenges Enjolras to see who can get a date first, underestimating the consequences, in order to help Cosette out."I bet you a-hundred-and-thirty euros that you couldn't get a date before me. A-hundred-and-thirty euros that could easily be spent on your little… service club....but to make things more interesting, whoever loses has to ask out someone of the other person's choice."





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I can't write this without crediting zimriya who, although I didn't steal her work in any way, did have the idea to write this AU years before I did. Props!  
> You can read her fantastic story 'Let Me Count the Ways' (though many in the fandom have read it already) [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/777335/chapters/1462683)

"Papa please you can't be serious! All my friends are allowed to date! I mean, not that they all do  but they're allowed  to, and really it's the principle of the thing!"

Cosette rarely shouted but the situation seemed to call for it. She was probably being overdramatic, but Enjolras didn't blame her. Being 15 meant nothing but a hormonal mess, after all.

Enjolras had been in his room trying to memorize a speech he was to give in English the next day on ableism in literature, but now it seemed hopeless, although he had almost all of it down. With a sigh, he tossed his chewed pen down and descended the stairs into the living room where his father was now speaking, trying to remain calm.

"There's no reason to use that tone. You know I don't have place many restrictions on you or your brothers, but this is one I feel strongly about."

Enjolras entered the sunset lit room frowning, not that that was unusual. Cosette was shaking her head incredulously and avoiding eye contact with Valjean.

"You don't even realise that you're being unfair! You're just being over-protective, Papa, and I bet  you know it!"

"What's going on?" Enjolras asked hesitantly but he was mostly ignored at first.

"Cosette, this is the kind of rule that is made by parents, and within this family, the rules are all the same. Neither you nor your brothers is allowed to date, and I know it might be hard to understand, as I've never had to enforce this rule before, but-"

"Oh that's not fair! You never enforced it because it didn't exist!" Cosette insisted. Enjolras looked rom his father to his sister, taking in the whole situation. His one on one social cues may not have been the best, but he understood situations between other people for the most part.

So Cosette had finally gotten sick of keeping her mouth shut about her feelings on the dating rule. The dating rule which had, admittedly, only been implemented once she'd shown signs of crushes to their dad.

"Now Cosette," Valjean continued, the cogs working in his brain, "this is a big step for the youngest child to take first."

"But Parnasse and Enj don't want  to date, do they? Enj is too involved in school, and Parnasse doesn't want to be 'emotionally compromised,' whatever that means, and even if he did date, he wouldn't tell you! If either wanted to, would you stop them? I guarantee you wouldn't!" Valjean froze then, and then he grinned in a way that was absolutely disconcerting.

"You got me. I've been unjust, and I apologize profusely," he said, and laid a hand on his chest. Cosette was dumbstruck, and when Valjean turned on Enjolras, he froze, that grin unsettling him. "I probably would have let him, if he had been first to ask."

"Where exactly are you going with this?" Enjolras asked, while Cosette moved her gaze from her father to her brother and back. Valjean turned back to his daughter, self-satisfied grin still in place.

"Cosette, I've changed my mind. You can date-"

"Really?" Cosette squealed, cutting him off. Valjean held up a halting hand.

"I'm not finished. You can date once, and only  once, both your brothers do."

"What?" Cosette cried. "That's so not what I meant! No, Papa, please." 

Enjolras was in a state of mild shock, but took that opportunity to escape back up to his room. The whole thing was slightly overwhelming, and surely Cosette would be around any minute to try and pressure him and his twin brother into doing something they'd both probably regret.

Cosette's pleading stopped very soon, and Enjolras was less than surprised when she entered his room just a few minutes later, holding out his favourite chocolate bar with a wide grin on her face.

He did not look up from his notecards.

"I know what you're going to ask, and before you do, no. I point-blank refuse." Cosette dropped weak-limbed onto his bed, chocolate bar still in her hand.

"Oh come on, Enj! Please? For me?" she pouted. He got up from his desk chair with a sigh, walking over to her and snatching the chocolate bar from her hand.

"You know that look only works on people who aren't  Papa or me." He sat at the other end of the bed and removed the foil wrapping from the dark cooking chocolate, snapped a piece off and popped it in his mouth.

"Okay. What if… I'll do your laundry for a month?" Enjolras swallowed the chocolate and shook his head.

"You must be joking. You mind doing your laundry far more than I do." He stood again and went back to his desk.

"Exactly," Cosette was saying, eyebrows raised in false innocence. "Think of the sacrifice I'd be making for you!" Enjolras spun to face his little sister again, looking suspiciously down at her.

"Why do you care so much? Who's this guy?" Cosette bit her lip.

"He's uh… in your year. And um… you don't like him much, but-"

"'Sette, you expect me to help you date some guy I don't like?"

"Well I… it's none of your business who I go out with! But it's only right I should be allowed to!" she insisted, standing up and stepping towards Enjolras.

He huffed. She was right. She should be able to date, as much as he didn't really care.

"Tell me who it is, and I might do you a favour." It wasn't a lie. Enjolras was considering it, as long as the guy wasn't an asshole. Not a favour meaning him dating someone. Never.

"Marius Pontmercy," Cosette told him, voice hopeful. Enjolras couldn't help it. He laughed loud and hard and long.

"You-" he managed through his laughter. "You fancy him? That utter prat?" He remembered Marius' ridiculous opinions and political views, as well as his ignorance towards the effects current political actions were having on the lower class, which he'd voiced during Global Politics back in September, when he still dared to speak in class. Enjolras' arguments responses had amended that.

"Don't talk about him like that! He's really sweet. And romantic! Just because you wouldn't know romance if it bit you on the nose-" She broke off, taking a deep breath before starting again. "So… will you find… someone to go out with?" Enjolras rolled his eyes at her presumptuousness.

"No. Now go away, I need to practice this speech."

Cosette raised her face to the sky and sighed. Enjolras turned to his notecards, and heard her leave behind him, the door clicking shut.

 

*

 

Enjolras had finished up his final changes to his notecards, intending to bring them to bed to continue studying off them, when his bedroom door swung open again. Enjolras spun around in his desk chair quite abruptly to look up at Montparnasse who was leaning casually against the doorframe. His brother was taller than him, which always irritated Enjolras, and though they were very similar facially, although genetically only fraternal, the way Montparnasse wore his hair, makeup, and clothes set them apart entirely.

Enjolras was not particularly fond of Montparnasse the majority of the time. He was in with a rougher sort of crowd which Enjolras did not approve of, he had little known ambition , and was constantly rumoured to be involved in petty crime, though he never let on to his siblings.

"What do you want?" he asked, glaring up at his brother. Montparnasse raised an angular eyebrow and nudged himself off the doorframe, stalking forwards with an air of casualty.

"Is that any way to talk to your better, more attractive, twin brother?"

"Fuck off, 'Parnasse. I don't have time for your shit right now." There was something about the way Montparnasse carried himself, gestured, and spoke that just got under Enjolras' skin. He was always careful to remind himself that this was very normal of siblings, particularly in teenage years. But just because they were siblings did not mean he had to like his brother.

"Language, little brother."

"Like you don't use worse. And I'm four minutes younger than you!"

"Details," Parnasse waved him off. "Anyway, I hear you're incapable of getting yourself a date, Enj."

Enjolras scoffed, incredulous. The nerve ! Had Cosette really-- of course she had. The girl was inexorable.

"I am not going to do anything I don't want to do so our sister can go out with some imbecilic boy who doesn't know what red and blue mean in American politics."

"The boy's harmless and don't  assume I don't worry about her," said Montparnasse, suddenly vicious. He took a deep breath, an attempt to retain his calm demeanour. "Nevertheless, I think you're afraid." He took a seat on Enjolras' bed, causing him to bristle with distaste at the action.

"Afraid of what?"

"Not being able to find anyone who would find you favourable enough to take out, of course. Not hard to figure out why."

Enjolras scowled, wondering what the hell he was talking about. "I mean," Parnasse continued, as if reading his brother's mind, "That while there are people fighting to get with me, you couldn't get a date if you tried."

"And what's that supposed to mean? You think you're  more likable than me? Who even listens to you ? No one, I dare think," he spat.

"Well," began Parnasse, stretching his neck, "we know  I'm the more appealing brother, that's for sure."

Enjolras lowered his gaze and took a deep breath.

"I'm not going to fall for your crap, Parnasse."

"Oh really? I bet you a-hundred-and-thirty euros that you couldn't get a date before me. A-hundred-and-thirty euros that could easily be spent on your little… service club, or whatever it is."

Enjolras was suddenly at-attention. The ABC was trying to be the service club to host prom this year. Hosting the prom meant that they received all the profit for their cause. But in order to be chosen as the select group, they needed votes. And for votes, they needed fantastic fundraisers in the lead up. Montparnasse was right. And besides, Enjolras was the better twin. He could get a date easily, he lied to himself.

"What are the stakes?" he heard himself ask. Parnasse's carefully filled in eyebrow arched again.

"Huh. Well, the money of course, but to make things more interesting, whoever loses has to ask out someone of the other person's choice. How about?"

Enjolras pushed the negative voice that was murmuring in his head to the back of his mind and drew in a breath, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way.

"Deal."

Montparnasse's eyes widened for a split-second, something flashing across them before his impassive expression returned. He stood, cocking his head. "Well then. Get used to failure, brother."

"Fuck off," Enjolras spat, and Montparnasse bowed his way out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

"Shut the door!"

Parnasse just laughed.

The situation came slowly to him as he realised what he'd agreed to.

He was going to have to find a date. A romantic kind of date. With someone he wasn't even into, because there was really nobody he wanted to go out with, and there never had been. However, if he wanted the ABC to host the prom for ultimate funding, he was going to have to go with it.

This would probably be among the most difficult things Enjolras had conquered in his life.

 

*

 

As a rule, Enjolras disliked Tuesdays. They always felt somewhat oppressive (though the idea didn't make much sense) and this particular Tuesday felt especially so, what with the pressure he'd placed himself under. The task of finding a date was a tough one, and upon arriving at school, Enjolras found his way to the lounge chairs outside the library where he always met his friends.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were sat squashed together on one of the red plush chairs looking at something on Combeferre's laptop when Courfeyrac spotted Enjolras.

"Enj, hey!" He frowned slightly. "You look tired. You weren't up all night working on English were you?" Enjolras' silence spoke volumes. "You're awful! You know you don't have to memorize for the orals, right? You're both as bad as each other," said Courfeyrac, exasperated as he looked between Enjolras and Combeferre.

Combeferre rolled his eyes and put an arm around Courfeyrac, pulling him close.

"You love us anyway." Courfeyrac turned to the taller boy and smiled a warm smile only Courfeyrac could.

"I do."

Well, Enjolras thought then, that was true. His two best friends did love him. Love him enough to… go out with him perhaps?

"Enjolras, sit down. You're making us uncomfortable," said Combeferre, an eyebrow raised. Enjolras stayed standing. He gulped.

"I have to ask you something, Courf." Enjolras was unusually nervous, simply because all this felt so wrong, and his friends certainly picked up on this.

"Is everything okay? Class starts in ten. Ooh, is it something exciting?"

"Yes I… it's quick. Um… will you go out with me?" he asked more quickly then he'd intended, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

Courf looked up at him, dark eyes wide and blinking. He looked at Combeferre who was just as blank-faced, and then back to Enjolras.

"Like, on a date?"

"Yes of course," Enjolras scoffed, impatiently. Courfeyrac blinked twice. And then burst out laughing, bright and rollicking, as if he'd never heard anything so joyfully funny in all his life. He was bent double, slapping furiously at Combeferre's knee.

Enjolras frowned, his fingers twisting inside his pockets.

"What's so funny?" he asked his friend who was still bent over his own knee, laughing so hard people were beginning to stare. 

"Ahhh, you're serious," Courf breathed out amongst his laughter. Enjolras shifted his gaze onto Combeferre who looked back, mildly amused.

"Well he doesn't have to be so rude," said Enjolras. He sighed, fed up. "Will you go out with me then, Ferre?"

This brought on a whole new bout of laughter from Courfeyrac, causing Enjolras to shoot a glare at him, but even Combeferre looked like he was fighting not to laugh.

"No, Enj. I'm not going to go out with you, no matter what  this bizarre farce might be about."

Four ascending xylophone notes resonated around the room then. "You should get to class," said Ferre, standing and hauling Courfeyrac to his feet. Enjolras frowned, chewing the inside of his cheek and turned, making his way to homeroom.

 

*

 

Two classes passed uneventfully, his English presentation going by without a hitch. He started to get even more nervous as the minutes passed, and when, between classes, he passed Montparnasse in the halls, both refusing to meet the other's eye in public. And now, by lunch time, he was panicking. If he didn't succeed in finding a date before the day was out, Parnasse would beat him. And if Parnasse beat him, he'd have to deal with the consequence and go out with someone awful. The least he could do is go out with one of his friends. Platonically. Just to make things easy.

He was getting desperate. Which of his friends would do this? He ran through all of them in his mind. Feuilly was too busy, Bahorel was supposedly 'straight'. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were together. Courf and Ferre had already both rejected him without giving a reason and Jehan? Well, Jehan would be a good option but… he was a hopeless romantic with no sort of attraction to Enjolras so he would never agree.

Enjolras stepped hopelessly along the too-grey, slightly grimy hall between the science labs and the open courtyard. And as he walked, there, right in front of him was his answer- wearing headphones and walking right past, 10 meters ahead of him.

Grantaire wasn't straight, and wasn't in denial about it. Grantaire found him attractive too; he made it clear enough, slipping it into his points, or making sideways comments throughout meetings. To add insult to injury, Grantaire was relatively close with Parnasse as well, as much as it sometimes pained Enjolras. Grantaire would say yes. Surely.

How Enjolras felt about him… well, that was irrelevant. He'd shove that frustration and mild disgust aside. He was not about to lose this opportunity. Which is how he found himself rushing after the other boy, shouting his name until Grantaire pulled his headphones out and turned around, raising an eyebrow in confusion, but smiling sweetly once he saw who it was.

"An Adonis is among us. What is it you require? You need anything in particular?" Grantaire's voice was deep and slightly raspy, and quite pleasant to listen to, but Enjolras was mildly offended nonetheless.

"Who said I require anything? Can't I just want to talk to you?" Grantaire tilted his chin, disbelieving.

"You could, but you don't. Out with it, then!" Shit. He hadn't thought this far ahead. How did this usually work? And how was he to know? He wasn't into pop culture or movies, really. And he certainly didn't ask people out ever .

"I need…" No. "I want you to go out with me," he amended.

Grantaire's eyes widened for a moment before he gave a humourless laugh, suddenly sarcastic.

"Good one. What are you doing? I mean, I'd assume it was your idea before I remembered you don't make jokes."

"I make jokes," Enjolras insisted, somewhat petulantly. Grantaire snorted.

"No you don't. So who told you to do it? Was it Bahorel? Damn, what did I do to piss him off so badly?" Enjolras huffed, frustrated. Why could Grantaire not just go with this?

"Bahorel didn't tell me to do this. None of our friends did," he said. Enjolras wasn't good at directly telling untruths, but he had no problems with lying by omission.

"There's no way," Grantaire scoffed.

"R, I want to go out with you," he said, eyes pleading as they sought to meet Grantaire's, which they did when Grantaire looked up to meet his gaze. His look altered from hurt disguised as amusement to one of utter bewilderment.

"Fuck, you're serious," Grantaire thought aloud. " Fuck  Apollo, are you actually serious?" Grantaire's voice had grown slightly manic and Enjolras nodded, solemnly. "Fuck!" Grantaire said, his voice strained and a little too loud. He was breathing hard, hands tugging at his hair, and eyes growing glassy as he looked wildly around, eyes reaching everywhere but Enjolras' own. His breath was uneven and he was practically hyperventilating.

"Are you… Grantaire are you crying? Are you… okay?" Grantaire gulped, his warm watery eyes coming to fix back on Enjolras' own.

"You're going to have to give me a minute but… are you sure  you're okay?"

"Do you not believe me? Look, you don't have to but I'd really appreciate it if you would."

 Grantaire broke into a grin, letting out a shaky breath and wiped tears from his face, nodding.

"Yeah, I… yeah I believe you. I'm great. You really mean it? You actually want to..?" he trailed off. Enjolras swallowed but nodded. He did want to. He wanted to fund his club so that they could run the prom this year. That counted.

Grantaire took a deep breath and shook himself, looking more or less back to normal, though brighter both in face and posture. Enjolras felt a small worm of discomfort (guilt?) niggling at the back of his mind and dismissed it.

"So… did you have anything in particular in mind?" asked Grantaire, shifting his weight on his feet, making himself look taller, their eyes almost at an even level now. His eyes were very green. Enjolras blinked twice.

"What?"

Grantaire chuckled and blushed, glancing down at his feet and shaking his head before reforming eye contact.

"For this… date you wanted to go on? Any ideas?" Enjolras raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Uh-- oh. No. Sorry." Shit, he really hadn't thought about how this whole dating thing worked. "I probably should have thought of that." On the other hand, at least Grantaire was agreeing, he'd already won.

"I thought not," said Grantaire still grinning, and nudged him gently. "I'll pick you up Friday after school? We can go straight from here?"

Enjolras nodded. "Uh, yeah. That sounds… great. Okay. I'll uh… see you at the meeting tomorrow? If you'll be there." 

Grantaire took an awkward step back, nodding, hands shoved in his pockets.

"I always am," he said.

"Okay. Bye!"

"See you."

Enjolras turned to go feeling both lighter and much, much heavier.

 

*

 

Enjolras made his way to the courtyard to see his friends who were surely already waiting there, and without Grantaire, due to involvement with other friends and activities, or so Enjolras assumed. They were indeed waiting on the same set of wooden benches under the large linden tree. The new-green of the leaves hung low over the benches, the light from the high sun filtering through the branches, falling over Enjolras' friends in a speckled gold. He gave a smirking Courfeyrac and Bahorel a tight smile and sat in the empty space next to Feuilly on the bench.

"So Enjolras," said Feuilly, turning his face towards him with a grin. The lack of a nickname and the mischief on Feuilly's face made him start. "Hear you can't decide who out of Courf and Ferre you want to go out with?" Enjolras blushed at the sentiment.

"That's not what happened!" he insisted, glaring at Courf who smiled innocently back.

"Care to enlighten us then?" asked Courf. "I mean, I've got to know."

Enjolras scowled and looked away from his friends to see Jehan and Montparnasse leaving the school. Montparnasse said something that made Jehan throw their head back in laughter, and Montparnasse looked at them, his lips curving up slightly.

Enjolras grinned and bit his lip.

"I'll tell you when I get back. Hold that thought," he said unthinkingly, and jogged over to catch Parnasse before he walked off.

Upon spotting him, Jehan smiled at Parnasse and bid himself farewell.

"Hi Enj," they said in passing. Enjolras smiled before stepping forward towards his brother who was scratching his neck and gazing after Jehan.

"So how's your date hunt going?" Enjolras asked, feeling exceptionally smug. Montparnasse broke out of his daze and looked at him. He assumed a cocky expression.

"Better than you, I'm sure. I'll have a date by the end of the day." Enjolras chuckled knowingly.

"Hm, maybe so. But it's a little late for that. Maybe you should pay up."

"You… you already got a date?" said Montparnasse suddenly looking shocked and worried. Enjolras stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Fuck."

"Guess you're gonna have to pay me then. Oh, and you get to go on a date with someone of my choosing."

At that last part, Parnasse positively flinched. Enjolras' brow furrowed. He might not get on with his brother, but he did care about him, in spite of what he might say on some days.

"Are you alright?"

"Just… be nice. I mean… there's a reason I haven't really… done anything with anyone that  way before, you know? So…" Enjolras clearly looked puzzled, because Parnasse scoffed and rolled his eyes. "The whole trans thing, fuck, Enj. It kind of squicks a lot of people out? In case it didn't cross your privileged mind? Not that I'm planning on telling them, but still."

"Oh!" Enjolras hadn't even considered that. Although his brother's gender was one of the few things he'd defend him on to the death, he hadn't stopped to consider that this might be an issue. "That won't be a problem," he promised. "I'll be good."

"So," Montparnasse sighed, arms crossed tightly across his chest. "Money will come when you get home. What's the verdict then? Who's it going to be?"

Enjolras turned slowly, going through people he knew in his head. And then the image of Montparnasse smiling at Jehan swam across the surface of his mind. He span back to face his brother with a look of mischief about him.

"You and Jehan seemed awfully friendly." Enjolras practically saw the jolt that went through Parnasse's stomach as his whole body twitched and his eyes widened.

"What? No. We're not really even friends. Not one of your friends. They're so uncool."

"Oh so you think my friends are uncool?"

"Um, yes? They're your friends. Of course they are."

"So you won't mind if I told Jehan not to talk to you because you think they're uncool?"

"What? No!"

"Ah." Enjolras gave Parnasse a smug look. Parnasse shifted awkwardly, his cheeks undeniably pink.

"I don't like Jehan. They're… pretentious. I don't want to go out with them." Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

" Jehan  is pretentious? Please. You named yourself after a Parisian neighbourhood."

"Oh fuck off," Montparnasse spat.

"So… you don't like Jehan," said Enjolras, half smirking.

"No," Parnasse insisted, blushing darker, crossing his arms tighter in spite of the warm air.

"So… you're certain you don't secretly want to date Jehan? You don't want to hold their hand, or kiss them goodnight, or braid their hair while you cud-"

"Oh fuck off! You're insufferable."

"You have to ask out Jehan," Enjolras confirmed, knowingly.

"I hate you."

Enjolras turned to leave, but heard: "while we're at it," he turned around. "Who did you ask out?"

"Oh uh…" Enjolras didn't quite meet Parnasse's eyes. "Grantaire."

"You're kidding, right?" Enjolras shook his head, wondering what was with Parnasse's incredulous, slightly dangerous voice. "Oh for fuck's sake. Not only is that practically cheating, but it's also mean as hell," said Parnasse, and Enjolras cocked his head, questioning. Parnasse dismissed him and stalked off.

"Well, I still won."

 

Back under the tree, Enjolras was smiling softly to himself as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

"So?" prompted Courfeyrac with a smug little grin. "What was up this morning?"

Enjolras hummed in recall and swallowed. "Oh I had a bet with Parnasse."

"Didn't we tell you never to bet against him again? He always wins against you," Combeferre pointed out.

"Hey, let the kid live," said Feuilly, nudging Combeferre's knee with his trainer. "Enj doesn't look too upset right now. Maybe it went his way."

"It did, Feuilly. I appreciate your faith in me." Enjolras glared playfully at Combeferre as he said this.

"So… what was the bet?" asked Bahorel, scooting over to lean against Feuilly's legs in front of the bench.

"Oh. Right. Basically… he bet me 130 euros that I couldn't get a date before he did. And you know how we need that money for the ABC. So I did it." Enjolras shifted his gaze from one blank face to the next.

"Okay…" said Jehan. "Why would he do that?" Enjolras took a deep breath.

"Well Valjean decided that if Cosette wanted to date, Parnasse and I would have to first. And I didn't want to ask anyone out, so I assume Parnasse was helping her out. And he bet me. And I couldn't exactly turn it down, right?"

"It's great you're helping Cosette and the ABC at once," Combeferre nodded, his face set in a calm smile.

"Whoop, looks like the three are joining us!" Bahorel said, gesturing at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta who were walking towards them, laughing as they almost always were. Upon making eye contact with Enjolras, Joly squealed and ran forwards, the other two looking equally intrigued.

"Enjolras! Congrats!" said Bossuet. Enjolras raised his eyebrows and glanced around.

"For… what?" Joly squeezed into the space on the bench beside Enjolras and hooked an arm in his.

"We passed by the gym on the way here. Grantaire told us! That's awesome!"

"He's really happy Enj. He doesn't really believe it's happened yet though. I mean, he never would have thought you'd ever even consider asking him out." Musichetta crossed her legs on the ground and grinned up at him.

"Oh!" Enjolras' eyes widened. That small niggling worm of guilt was back, practically flailing in his stomach. "Right, yeah. Um… he's happy?" He looked down at his salad, brows together, lips pursed.

"Enjolras," came Combeferre's voice, dangerously low. "What. The fuck. Did you do?" Enjolras looked around.

There were no more smiles in the circle. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta looked bewilderedly between the rest of them. Jehan and Feuilly were frowning, gazes averted. Bahorel and Combeferre's fists were clenching and unclenching and Courfeyrac looked positively hurt on Grantaire's behalf.

Enjolras couldn't understand why they all seemed so upset. He'd hardly done anything wrong,  precisely. But that wiggling feeling of guilt was back, strongly suggesting otherwise. He hadn't been honest with Grantaire. Not exactly.

"Hold up, I'm lost," said Bossuet, holding up his hands. "What did Enj do?"

""Yeah, I'm kind of confused. Isn't this a good thing?" Joly asked, fixing Enjolras with a questioning look.

Combeferre cocked his head in Enjolras' direction, a sore attempt of a faux smile on his face. "Hm, I don't know, guys. Care to explain, Enjolras?"

"I asked Grantaire out. Because Montparnasse bet me 130 euros that I couldn't get a date before him. And the ABC--"

"You did what? " Musichetta shouted, sitting up much straighter.

"I--"

"Oh I heard you the first time," she spat. "Why would you do something like that?"

"That was a damn shitty thing to do," Bossuet murmured. Much like Feuilly and Jehan, he was looking away, but Enjolras had never seen the ever-cheerful Bossuet look so hurt.

Joly had let go of his arm and was staring at him as though he either didn't understand, or didn't believe what he'd heard.

"Everyone keeps saying that! Montparnasse, now all of you… I just asked him out! It's not like we're going to be… boyfriends  or anything. I didn't mean to hide it."

"You have to tell him," said Combeferre, still glaring at Enjolras. "It's not fair to him."

"He can't tell him!" Courfeyrac protested. "It would tear R up if he knew he was asked out on a bet."

Joly took a deep breath. "Look, you can't tell him. This is one of those cases, Enjolras, where you don't realise how insensitive you're being." Enjolras nodded in understanding. Justice he could do, but emotions were never his strong suit. These situations had arisen before and he'd learnt to take them with grace. Though, in retrospect, he could see how unfair it was to make Grantaire think one thing when he'd meant another. Winning against Montparnasse should not have been his main priority. "R thinks you really want to date him because you like him. If you tell him when or after you go out that you did it so Montparnasse would pay you, he's going to be upset." That made sense.

"So… I don't tell him?"

"No," Joly responded softly. "You don't."

"Hey," said Bahorel. "If you make the first date go really badly, maybe he'll not even want another. And then you can say that you think the two of you are better off as friends."

Murmurs of agreement went around the circle. Most of them still looked pretty upset or unhappy or angry.

"Enj, this is why you don't bet against Parnasse. It's always a bad idea," said Courf, putting on a pained smile.

"Right."  Enjolras speared a lettuce leaf with his fork and stuffed it unceremoniously into his mouth, already wondering what the best way to fuck up this date would be. 

 

*

 

Cosette had track practice after school, being the sporty child of the family, and Enjolras and Montparnasse took the train home together. They did not speak, and Montparnasse stayed at the train station with his friends, loitering for a while afterwards.

Many afternoons, it was the two of them alone in the house, and while Enjolras was trying to find a way to turn his economics essay into a social justice paper, Montparnasse flung the door open and tossed several large euro notes onto his desk.

"I hate you," he said bitterly. Enjolras turned in his seat, looking up.

"So when are you planning on asking out Jehan? Keeping up your end of the deal?"

Parnasse promptly blushed scarlet and scowled. "You don't even care if I hold up my end now that you got the money."

"You're probably right, but you're a man of your word. And a deal's a deal," Enjolras pointed out. "Also I feel like you kind of want to do it anyway." 

"Don't be stupid. What do you know about being into people? You asked out Grantaire."

"Yeah, well, you're my brother. It's different. Of course I can tell. And we're twins. Aren't we supposed to be telepathic or something?" Montparnasse raised an eyebrow at this.

"Only the identical ones. Jesus, and you're supposed to be the smart brother." Now it was Enjolras' turn to scowl.

Downstairs, the click of the opening door was heard, along with an "I'm home."

"Valjean, Parnasse drank milk from the carton again!" yelled Enjolras, smirking smugly at the boy in question. 

"Montparnasse," came Valjean's voice. "That's completely unhygienic. Get down here!"

Parnasse shot Enjolras a dirty look and left the room.

 

*

 

Wednesday morning meant a late start, and on Wednesdays, Montparnasse and his friends tried to meet for morning coffee, as Montparnasse was the only one without a free block first class. It wasn't exactly an expected characteristic of a group such as theirs, but they all secretly enjoyed their weekly coffee meetings.

The coffee shop was situated less than a kilometer from the school, and when Montparnasse opened the door, the warm, delicious scent of coffee met him. Spotting Claquesous and Babet already sitting in the corner, Parnasse ordered a double espresso and went to meet them.

"Hey, Parnasse, what's up?" asked Babet. Montparnasse smiled and gave him a nod.

"You look shit," Claquesous articulated without intonation before sipping at his coffee.

"Wow, always such a pleasure to have around, aren't you?" said Parnasse, voice dripping with sarcasm. Claquesous shrugged. "So, Babet, how's dentistry going?" Parnasse asked with a grin.

Babet studying dentistry had become a joke amongst them. He was older than the rest, and had graduated the previous year, but Babet had never been the type who wanted to study something in order to help people, in spite of the fact that he was always trying to help all his friends with their various problems.

"Oh go fuck yourself, you," he chuckled. "Nah, but the whole ethics and patient management stuff is dull as anything. The learning about teeth part is cool though. Found out about this kid who had over 200 teeth growing in his mouth and they had to pull them all out. Pretty gross stuff." Babet grinned.

"Ugh I so didn't need to hear that before nine in the morning." Montparnasse shivered.

The bell over the door rang, and Montparnasse spun around in his armchair to see Eponine, Gueulemer, and Brujon entering the café all looking a little dead. They all ordered before coming over.

"Ayy, Babet!" Brujon exclaimed, high-fiving him and pulling up a wooden chair from the table behind them, Eponine having taken the last armchair, and Eponine was not one to mess with in the mornings.

"Hey, scoot up, Claq," said Gueulemer, nudging Claquesous' ankle with his boot. Claquesous shot the much bigger boy a dangerous look, but complied, making room on the spacious armchair. Gueulemer squeezed his large body in beside Claquesous' with a small smile.

The waitress came up to the table holding several coffees then. She passed out the others, then set Montparnasse's out directly in front of him. She gave him a once-over and said, in a suggestive tone: "Enjoy" before striding away, hips swaying. Montparnasse just rolled his eyes before noticing the phone number written on his napkin.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

"Is that her number?" asked Brujon full of glee. "You dog!"

"Don't know why you're so upset," Babet put in, eyebrow raised. "She was cute." Montparnasse gave half a shrug and ripped his napkin in half in plain sight, hoping somewhat that the waitress would see.

The truth was that the waitress had been cute. But dating in the first place wasn't something Montparnasse felt comfortable with yet at this point in his transition. Also, he was supposed to be asking out Jehan, as much as the prospect scared him. He tried to remind himself that in the end, it was all for Cosette. And he wanted Cosette to be happy with her situation, even if he wasn't completely.

"I don't get it though. Parnasse is often the one to get hit on. What is it with all these chicks liking the more feminine guys?" Montparnasse's stomach jolted at the sound of Gueulemer's words. He took a sip of his coffee, which was much stronger than he actually preferred, but it was a way for him to maintain an image. "I mean, no offence, bro, but you're the cute one." Parnasse scoffed, gazing incredulously and Gueulemer. He knew Gueulemer didn't mean anything by it, but it still hurt.

"Fuck you, G, I'm clearly the hot one!" he said, feigning confidence. There were definitely times he wished he'd come out to his friends, but when they were a lot like this, it was tough to know how they'd react, so since moving to this new school at the start of high school, he'd presented immediately as male, and as far as he knew, not many people knew he was trans. Or if they did, he didn't let on.

"Claq's the hot one," Gueulemer protested.

"Um, fuck you both, I'm the hot one and  the feminine one," said Eponine, speaking for the first time since arriving in the café.

"You know it, Ep." Eponine looked up and Parnasse winked at her. The rest laughed. When Claquesous cleared his throat, they all turned to look at him. Montparnasse was fixed with a piercing gaze from Claquesous' incredibly dark eyes.

"You still haven't explained why the supposed 'hot one' looks like shit."

"Oh lay off," said Babet. "He looks fine."

"His clothes and hair do, maybe. But he's clearly stressed. Or worried."

Montparnasse shrugged. "Made a stupid bet with my brother."

"Don't you always win bets against him?" said Brujon. Montparnasse shrugged and took another sip of espresso, doing his best not to screw his face up at the taste.

"Not really up for discussing it right now."

The bell above the door rang again, and this time Grantaire entered, scruffy as ever, gym bag over his shoulder. He ordered, making casual conversation with the barista in what sounded like rapid-fire Spanish before coming over to them while he waited for his drink to be prepared.

"What's up guys? My dudes?" he said, grinning and propping the back of Montparnasse's armchair. "Babet, long time no see."

Grantaire wasn't exactly in their group, but he hung out with them relatively often. They all went to the same parties, he spent some lunches with them, and they got on pretty well with him, but Grantaire was more friends with Enjolras' group than his own. Him and Eponine were similar that way, flitting between groups, and that had brought them pretty close.

"Hey! Grantaire, good to see you," Babet replied.

"What's up with you? You seem unusually good-spirited." The group looked over at Claquesous, unimpressed, in time to see him jerk his hand away from Gueulemer's forearm. "I'm just saying he's generally miserable."

"Gee, thanks Claq," said Grantaire, feigning hurt before bringing back his broad grin. "I'm glad you asked though. It just so happens that I've got myself a hot date for this Friday." Montparnasse groaned.

"Ugh. Can you not  call my brother hot? It's disturbing."

"You're twins, " Grantaire shot back.

"Not identical  ones."

"Really?" Grantaire seemed taken aback. It was true that they did look eerily similar as fraternal twins, but Montparnasse always took a shred of (admittedly scathing and internalized-transphobic) pride in Enjolras looking more feminine than he did.

"Really," he repeated in the most condescending tone he could muster.

"Huh, who knew?"

"I'd assume you would, if anyone," Eponine said, raising an eyebrow at Grantaire.

"Wait wait wait," said Gueulemer, waving a hand. "You're going on a date with Parnasse's brother? Like… actually? The guy you haven't shut up about for the past three years?" Montparnasse bit down hard on the inside of his lip and chewed.

"Yeah. Not bad, huh?" Grantaire was smirking smugly, but his eyes were distant. Parnasse gagged. Disgusting.

"One medium black coffee to go?" the barista called out.

"Oh, that's mine," said Grantaire. "Anyone else got first block?"

"Ugh, I do. Guess I'll come with you. See you guys." Parnasse hefted himself up off the armchair and swung his bag over his shoulder.

A chorus of farewells and congratulations to Grantaire went around the circle as they turned to leave.

 

It was a warm morning with few clouds, spring coming earlier than usual. There was no wind, and Montparnasse was just warm enough in his leather jacket. It was only a short walk down the pavement and up a small hill to get to the school campus. Plenty of other students were also making their way down the street the school village was on, none of them looking perkier than Grantaire.

"So Enjolras told you we're going on a date? Since when does he tell you anything?" Avoiding eye contact was easy, walking next to one another, so Parnasse shrugged.

"Beats me. Maybe he thought I'd care 'cause we're friends?"

"Well, thanks for not being weird about it. The whole sibling thing. I know some people consider it an automatic off-limits zone." Grantaire couldn't keep the smile out of his voice as he tugged a hand through his curls. Montparnasse huffed a laugh.

"Nah, it's chill. As long as this gets you to shut up about him around me," he joked.

"Hey," said Grantaire, sticking a foot out to playfully kick him in the shin. There were a few seconds of silence after that. Montparnasse took a deep breath.

"You're really open about… your sexuality and stuff. Like… you don't give a fuck who knows you like guys, do you?"

"Eh. I mean, doesn't really matter to me. And people don't really seem to give a shit. If they do, then fuck them, you know?" Montparnasse narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. On second thought, he decided to speak after all.

"So you're…"

"Bi," Grantaire finished. He seemed so casual about it- something Montparnasse couldn't quite imagine being with anyone other than himself, and maybe his family. He knew that, despite good intentions, people so often thought differently of others after finding out that they were gay, or bi, or particularly trans. There were so many people uncomfortable with the whole trans thing, or thinking that it made him a 'special tumblr snowflake' or whatever (even though Montparnasse's tumblr was purely an aesthetic blog, thank you very much).

"My friends seemed cool with it though. I mean, they didn't even react," said Montparnasse, after another long pause once they reached campus. Grantaire turned his head to look directly at Parnasse, too-green eyes piercing into him, slightly more perceptive than was comfortable.

"Course they didn't. They're not all straight either, you know. Why? You working through something?" Parnasse shook his head, but didn't say anything. "Hey, I'm not gonna push it, but whatever it is, I don't think they'd care. And you can always tell me about it. If you need. Or want."

"Ugh," Montparnasse groaned. "Please tell me we're not doing feelings  now. I can't handle that shit."

Grantaire laughed and nudged him sideways.

"Hi," came a light, familiar voice from the other side of Grantaire. It was Jehan. Montparnasse swallowed as he looked over their features. They'd managed to work their wild mane on curls into a braid-crown, and the freckles on their bronze skin were captivating. Montparnasse blinked and shook himself. What the fuck?

"Oh, hey Jehan. Another unlucky senior with class first block?" Grantaire asked.

"No, actually. But I have an overdue library book to return. And there's a book on German Romantic poetry that I wanted to get out and look over before literature today. Heidelberg stuff."

"You're such a fantastic little nerd, you know that?" Grantaire chuckled, and Jehan took no small pleasure in shoving him, not that it did much.

"I was wondering if you still needed to shoot me?" they asked.

"Yes! Yeah, how's the start of lunch? We can get it done and then head straight to the ABC meeting?" Grantaire suggested.

"Sounds good." Jehan gave a definitive nod and a smile. "I mean we'll be kind of late, but whatever."

"When am I not kind of late? Great. Okay, I'm teaching grade nine gym first, so I'm off here," said Grantaire, nodding towards the field. "I'll see you two later?" They both bid him goodbye and kept walking. They made brief eye contact, and Jehan smiled up at him, not looking nearly as bashful as he felt.

"So… what's this with Grantaire shooting you?" asked Montparnasse, trying to sound amused rather than nervous.

"Oh," Jehan giggled. "Right. Grantaire takes photography. He thought I'd be good for lighting-play. With the hair. And the freckles. And of our other friends, only Courfeyrac wouldn't mind posing nude." Montparnasse's eyes widened, and he thought he felt his stomach clench.

"Nude?" Jehan was looking straight at him to take in his expression.

"No, not really!" they laughed. It was a good laugh, full of joy, and full-bodied. Montparnasse relaxed slightly. "Well," they said, becoming sly. "Not today at least. We're just setting up the shoot today. Planning and such. There's no way I'd give up spending this much time on my hair half-way through the day!"

"Your hair looks great," Montparnasse blurted, completely without thinking first. Jehan looked up at him as they walked, holding intense eye contact while they smiled.

"Thank you." It sounded so sincere that Montparnasse felt his face heating and had to look away. 

"The apple trees are lovely this time of year, aren't they?" Jehan sighed. Wow, that was endearing. Immediately, Parnasse reprimanded himself for the thought, and instead of voicing it, he simply nodded awkwardly. "I think I might read outside this morning. It's supposed to rain tomorrow, so might as well take advantage of the weather." 

"What, with your German romantic poetry?" Montparnasse teased. "I thought the Germans had no shred of romance in them." Jehan rolled their eyes and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Hey!"

"First off, that's prejudice, and not funny. Also, that's Romantic with a capital-R. The Romantic era. The book is Heidelberg Romanticism."

"Which means…" Montparnasse found that the corners of his mouth were turned up as he looked at Jehan, and that he really wanted to hear Jehan explain anything and anything.

"Romanticism was a poetic movement. And Heidelberg Romanticism came after Jena Romanticism in Germany. It's a Romantic era I haven't really explored yet, and so I'm going to."

"Well, sounds like you'll enjoy the morning then."

"I should do. Do you read much?" they asked, bold smile still on their face. Montparnasse was still having trouble comprehending how everything they did seemed both soft and bold at the same time…

"What, me? Reading? Nah, that's sorta… well, for a different demographic than me, isn't it? I mean I read the news when a politician has really fucked up, or something huge has happened, but that's the extent." Jehan's face at these words transformed to one of shock.

"Reading's for a different demographic? What do you mean by that?"

Montparnasse tried to shrug it off. "Well, for people like… like you. You know?"

Jehan was still smiling when he proclaimed: "Oh so reading is a nerd thing then? Too cool for reading?"

"Hey, I didn't--"

"Oh no, we are so changing your mind about this. I'm gonna find you something to read that you're going to love." Montparnasse rolled his eyes at Jehan's adamant tone, secretly thinking that he'd probably love anything that they gave him to read. "You're a smart guy. It shouldn't be that hard."

Parnasse took his eyes off Jehan to look at the school building, now alongside them.

"If you insist. But chem is in this building, so I'll… catch up with you later?" He halted and Jehan stopped beside him.

"You take chemistry?" They were clearly surprised that of all subjects Montparnasse would continue on with, this was one of them. He nodded. Jehan's eyebrows raised. "Wow. Um, yeah. I'm going to find you a book you'll adore, mark my words!" they said, walking backwards a few steps before turning and walking towards the library. Montparnasse shook his head at the clash of colours, patterns, and fabrics they were wearing, but was smiling nonetheless as he headed to chemistry.

 

*

 

Enjolras' date with Grantaire came around all too soon. On Friday morning, Cosette had come into Enjolras' room bright and early, flinging open the curtains.

"So, I hear you decided to do me a favour after all?" she said, taking a seat at the edge of his bed.

Enjolras groaned and blinked his bleary eyes open. "What?"

"Your date . With Grantaire ?"

He yawned. "Oh, yeah. That. That's today." Cosette pulled back his covers, warranting another groan. She was already dressed and put together, and far too energetic.

"I'm gonna help you pick out what to wear. Chop chop, up you get," she sing-songed.

"No, you don't have to--"

"I'm still surprised you decided to do me the favour. I mean, Parnasse was the easy one to convince, surprisingly. Should have known you'd be in on it if it meant beating him. So now I've just got to wait for him  to find someone to date. And then I'm good!" She started opening the wardrobe and pulling out random items of clothing and depositing them on the floor. Enjolras practically leapt out of bed and starting herding her out of the room.

"Cosette, I love you, but I don't need help. Go bother Parnasse!"

"Ugh, fine. I still can't believe it though. You and Grantaire. That's so cute!" she squealed before Enjolras managed to shut the door behind her and lean heavily back on it. He was so not ready for the day.

 

All his friends had been somewhat cold to him since Tuesday, not that he really blamed them. They still talked to him of their own free will, but there was less laughter.

At the end of Economics, his last class on a Friday, Combeferre approached him.

"Just try not to make him like you. That would be cruel," he said. Enjolras did not pretend not to know what he was talking about. He just nodded. Combeferre returned the sincere nod and walked off without another word. With a sigh, Enjolras walked across the crowded, noisy building to the lobby, where he'd said he'd meet Grantaire after the meeting on Wednesday.

The lobby was full of sweaty teenagers, hugging as if they'd never see each other again, and yelling about party plans for the weekend. Every Friday afternoon exactly the same. Except that this Friday afternoon was going to be vastly different than usual for him.

Grantaire appeared at his elbow then, his smile wide and infectious. He was dressed as he always was, in an open, oversized flannel and dark jeans, thank goodness. Enjolras hadn't really considered what the plans for the rest of the afternoon were, and that there might be some sort of dress code, even though Cosette had tried to help him pick out an outfit.

"Hey there," Grantaire said, sounding much more comfortable than Enjolras felt.

"Uh, hi. So… what are we doing?" he asked, shifting his feet and adjusting his backpack on his shoulders.

Grantaire cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "I thought we'd try something a little different from what you're used to. But you'll see when we get there." Enjolras looked on at Grantaire in disbelief as he walked backwards in front of him. "It's a surprise," said Grantaire, emphasizing the point with jazz hands.

 

In Grantaire's organized-mess of a car, just minutes later, Enjolras listened, downright impressed as Grantaire sang along with an English song without missing a word, and then switched flawlessly into Spanish without any detectable accent.

"How many languages do you speak?" Enjolras couldn't help but ask. Grantaire laughed and his eyes darted coyly.

"Uh… five. No big whoop though. Just happenstance, really." Enjolras blanched. Grantaire seemed to notice, shrugging but keeping his eyes on the road. "I mean, I grew up with Spanish and Arabic, learned French and English in school when I was five, and picked Greek up on holidays."

"Wow. That's uh… that's not nothing. I didn't know that."

Grantaire glanced over at him. "I guess we don't really talk that much, unless I'm messing with you, huh?" Enjolras gave a weak laugh, but Grantaire didn't return it. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. It's uh… shitty of me. But you do react so beautifully," he said, a smirk making its way onto his face. Enjolras frowned, frustration rising in him. Grantaire really did wind him up. It was a shame he had to be the one he'd asked out.

"I get angry at you. I don't like my very real, negative emotions being labelled beautiful. It's dehumanizing."

"Hey, calm down there, racehorse. I'll try to stop. But you're always gorgeous, Apollo. Your passion just brings out the best of it."

In spite of himself, and his usual hatred of compliments of his appearance, Enjolras felt blood rushing to his face.

"Ah, here we are," said Grantaire, turning the car gracefully into a parking space at the side of the road. Enjolras looked out the window to the outdoors, which he'd been ignoring while in the car only to see trees, and very little else. They had only been in the car for about fifteen minutes, and true, they'd been going in a different direction than Enjolras ever did, but he was fairly certain he'd never seen this place before, over the past four years of living there. Grantaire got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Cautiously, Enjolras followed suit.

"Where is 'here'?"

Grantaire opened the boot of the car and pulled out a rucksack which was definitely not his school bag. "We're walking the lake," he explained with a grin. He slammed the car-boot and swung the rucksack onto his shoulders.

Enjolras paused, hesitant. "Oh uh… I don't really… hike. I'm really not that fit."

"Trust me I know," Grantaire laughed. "It's an easy walk, don't worry. You'll enjoy it! You really ought to spend more time outside." With a sigh, Enjolras resigned himself to the afternoon, dreading it entirely.

 

It turned out that there really wasn't much to be concerned about, as far as walking went. It was all flat, and the trees weren't as densely packed as they'd first appeared. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of a flat green lake, and were walking along the side. It smelled lovely, being early springtime, and all the plants having blossomed, and the gentle breeze was refreshing, relieving Enjolras of the stress of the school week. As they walked, Grantaire pointed out different plants and birds, but it took Enjolras a little too long to catch on that many of the species Grantaire was pointing out were in fact fake.

"And that bird up there? See it?" he'd said, pointing up at a small grey bird sitting on the branch of a tree. Enjolras had nodded. "That's a Passer dragonicus . Their ash grey feathers hide their red skin, and they have a higher body temperature than any other species of sparrow."

"Huh. That's really interesting." Enjolras looked up at the ash grey bird, trying to imagine it having red skin underneath.

Grantaire was smiling, eyes sparkling. "Mhm, and they can live happily in fire, unharmed, if need be."

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire, mouth open, taking in the air of mischief about him. "You're messing with me!" he exclaimed. It wasn't a question and Grantaire burst out into bellowing laughter as Enjolras shoved him.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you! And I thought you just knew a lot about flora and fauna!" Enjolras found himself laughing too at the ridiculous situation.

"Hey," said Grantaire, still chuckling. "You make it too easy! You sit under a linden tree almost every day at lunch, and you still believed it was a Quercus salen  because its bark was salty! That's not even the correct genus. Man, you need to get out more."

"Excuse you!" Enjolras protested. He paused, laughing and shaking his head. "Okay, that was good."

"I'll take credit where it's due." Their eyes met as they smiled, and Enjolras  blinked at Grantaire's green eyes before looking quickly away. Not getting on with Grantaire seemed suddenly more difficult than it ever had been before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a fundraiser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Montparnasse heavy chapter
> 
> I'm shocked at how quickly I wrote this.

Courfeyrac walked into Ms. Houcheloup's room for the ABC meeting on Monday after school. He was among those of Enjolras' friends doing their best to remain positive about the whole Grantaire situation, but even Courfeyrac hadn't spoken to Enjolras over the weekend. Although, Enjolras thought, that probably stemmed from the fact that he was not that socially active during weekends where he had projects to finish that he’d neglected in favour of focussing on social justice.

"So," Courfeyrac said, striding over to the desk next to where Enjolras was sitting and sitting directly on the table top. "How was that date on Friday?"

Enjolras stopped compulsively refreshing his email to reflect on Friday evening.

After the walk by the lake, they'd stopped by an abandoned fire-pit at the lakeside and made a campfire, struggling to find good dry wood, as it had rained the less than 48 hours earlier. But they'd made a campfire, and they'd sat and roasted marshmallows and some kind of bread that Grantaire had called damper (something some New Zealander had taught him about on holiday once). And Grantaire had pulled a thick fleece out of his rucksack for Enjolras when the sun started to set so he wouldn't get cold. Grantaire had sung some cheesy songs, and they'd laughed together, and bickered about little things like fantasy versus science fiction, rather than their usual harmful arguments. Honestly, it had been a really nice evening, and Grantaire had been… well, he'd been Grantaire, frustrating and impossible, but he'd also been incredibly sweet. He'd gotten home late, smelling strongly of wood smoke, and feeling wonderfully relaxed.

"It was fine," was all Enjolras said, understating the evening entirely.

"Well, that's alright. You didn't lead him on, did you?" asked Courfeyrac, swinging his legs.

Enjolras shrugged. "I don't think so. I mean, I didn't really do anything different."

"Well if that's the case, there shouldn't be an issue." Enjolras nodded, remembering how his and Grantaire's hands had brushed, sitting on the log by the fire and he'd jerked it away. Grantaire hadn't been offended. Not like he probably should have been. Enjolras bit his lip and refreshed his email again.

Other members of the ABC had started to arrive when Courfeyrac seemed to remember something.

"Oh! A friend of mine is coming to the meeting today. I invited him, so be nice?" Enjolras nodded curtly and turned to face Courfeyrac.

'I hope you warned your friend that not much is going on today. We sent our prom proposal in last week and all we're doing today is waiting to get a response. It's not exactly going to be riveting."

"Is that why you're refreshing your email non-stop?" Courfeyrac joked.

"Of course! What else am I supposed to do? We need this grant to even be in the running. And then we've only got a week to actually plan and do our first fundraiser.”

Courfeyrac shook his head, smiling. “Enj, you've already reserved a time for our fundraiser  _ and  _ planned out two ideas completely. There's no way we won't be chosen. We do more than any other service group in school!”

Eyes narrowed, Enjolras refreshed his email again. “You can't be sure of that! We can't be too careful.”

The desk next to Enjolras’ wobbled dangerously when Courfeyrac hopped off with a little too much energy. “Marius, you came!” he exclaimed, practically skipping up to the lanky boy who had just arrived. At the sound of that name, Enjolras whipped around and stood up.

It was indeed the Marius he’d expected (though how many Marius’ could there really be in one school?) and Enjolras raised an eyebrow as he stalked slowly forwards, head raised, in what he hoped was a mildly threatening manner. He looked Marius up and down to clearly show that he was sizing him up, and pursed his lips, fixing the skinny freckled boy with a look that could curdle milk. Marius gulped, looking completely petrified at this other teenage boy who was around his height and just as skinny. An outsider might have found it funny but, as Courfeyrac might have said, those who had not fallen victim to the Enjolras-glare had not known true fear.

“So,” Enjolras said once he was a mere foot from Marius. “Marius. It’s been awhile since we spoke, hasn’t it?” Marius didn’t say a word. “You’ve had the decency to keep your mouth shut in politics since the start of the year.”

Courfeyrac took a step towards Enjolras and laid a hand on his arm. “Uh… Enj? Why are you interrogating my friend?”

Turning to Courfeyrac, Enjolras gave a cold smirk. “Do you remember the idiot from my politics class I told you about?” Courfeyrac’s mouth opened, a wave of realization washing over his features.

“Hold on one second,” Combeferre said from behind them. “That guy was Marius?” Combeferre stood beside Enjolras now, arms folded, eyes narrowed on the poor, scared boy. Since Enjolras had told his friends about ‘that politics guy’, Combeferre had brought him up regularly and seemed to despise his opinions even more than Enjolras did.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you three look like you're about to gang-fight this poor guy.” Bahorel stepped up and slapped Marius playfully on the shoulder. Blinking, Enjolras took in their stance. He, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were standing side by side, all facing Marius, two of them looking downright murderous. “Everything alright here? Aren't I supposed to be the one who gets into fights? Come on, Ferre, stop looking at the kid like that.” Guiding Combeferre away from the situation, Bahorel sent a stern look over his shoulder at Enjolras.

Enjolras turned to Courfeyrac, taking in a breath. “Hey, Courf, would you mind giving us a moment?” he asked, trying to seem casual as possible.

Courfeyrac sighed and shook his head. “I swear to god, if you make him cry--”

“Don't be ridiculous!”

Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Go calm Ferre down or something. I'll be nice. Promise.” Giving a final look of distrust, Courfeyrac retreated, taking a fuming Combeferre by the arm.

“I can't believe you're  _ friends  _ with that guy. His views are  _ fucked _ ,” Enjolras heard Combeferre say only to hear Courfeyrac counter, but Enjolras’ eyes were fixed on Marius now.

“So I hear there may be something between you and my sister? Cosette?” He watched Marius fluster and stutter for a few seconds, his cheeks going red, before taking pity on him. “Because if there is, it may or may not be a problem.”

“Well I… I mean there's not really anything going on. I mean I… I  _ like  _ Cosette, sure, but I only met her through Eponine. And I'm not sure that’s really the situa--”

“Don't play dumb,” Enjolras cut him off. “All I'm saying is when she  _ does  _ end up asking you out or anything of the sort, you'd better be respectful and principled, or you've got a whole other thing coming.” Marius was nodding, blinking, looking shocked at the prospect, and mildly confused.

“Sorry, but…  _ when  _ she asks me out?”

Enjolras’ eyebrow shot back up. “I said don't play dumb.” He turned away, going back to his desk and his email, refreshing the page, and growling at the lack of a new message.

Feeling hands on his shoulders, massaging gently, Enjolras sat back in his chair on an attempt to relax, despite the fact that he didn't know whose hands they were.

“You shouldn't stress yourself out so much,” a deep voice directly above his head sounded. Enjolras whipped around, and the hands on his shoulders disappeared. It was, as expected, Grantaire, now holding his hands up defensively. “Sorry, I'll stop if you don't like it,” he said, a questioning smile on his face. Enjolras felt his stomach clench, but he didn’t dismiss it as mild disgust, like he’d used to. Because, thinking about it now, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, as jolting and unsettling as it may have been. He’d named that feeling disgust because… well, when they’d met, Grantaire had been nothing if not crude and vulgar. Looking back though, Enjolras couldn't remember the last time Grantaire had been anything but kind and honest around him, if still petty and argumentative in most of their meetings.

Enjolras shook his head, in a delayed answer. “No, it's… it's alright. It feels nice.” Grantaire gave him a smile (full of things that made Enjolras’ stomach feel strangely… uncomfortable and dizzy. Could stomachs even be dizzy?) and let his hands fall back onto his shoulders. He relaxed, leaning into Grantaire’s firm, circular movements which seemed to be rubbing every bit of tension out of his shoulders.

Enjolras allowed his mind to slip back to the end of their date on Friday evening. Grantaire had driven him home, and they’d talked all the way back in the car about Disney movies, Enjolras hating the Lion King for its monarchic and classist undertones, and Grantaire saying that it was “the best soundtrack of any film on a long ass time. I mean, can you think of any more iconic? And the characters are hilarious. The animation is beautiful. And it’s a great adaptation of  Hamlet for kids”.

And then when Grantaire had pulled up and insisted on walking Enjolras to the door, even though “it’s less than 50 metres. I can walk it alone, thanks”. And the tension-filled awkwardness at the brush of hands between the car and the front door. And Enjolras had been, for lack of a better word, happy.

“Thank you,” he’d said. “For taking me out there. I uh… had a lot of fun.” Grantaire had sent him a signature smirk. “Oh yeah? Better than staying in studying and planning things?” And Enjolras had rolled his eyes, but smiled and nodded because… it was true. Somehow. “Well,” Grantaire had continued. “Thanks for inviting me out. I never would have thought… well. Think I’ll save that for a later date.” His eyes had widened as he realised what he’d said. “I mean… that is if you…”

Enjolras had laughed. “Yes. We should um… do this again. Or… not this exactly, but… you know what I mean.” They’d both smiled. Everything had felt… so intense. Then, for a terrifying moment, Enjolras had thought Grantaire was going to kiss him, but instead, he stepped back, and that felt… not so great. “Well I’ll… see you on Monday.” Grantaire nodded and took another step back, still smiling calmly. He’d still been standing there, waiting for Enjolras to get inside before walking away, and Enjolras had leant back on the door behind him, unable to stop smiling.

Just then, back in the present, Grantaire worked his thumb into a knot under Enjolras’ left shoulder blade, pressing the pressure out of it in a way that was exactly between pain and relief. Enjolras moaned softly at the relief of his muscles, and heard Grantaire give a weak, shocked laugh.

“Well  _ Enjolras, _ ” said Grantaire in a tone of mock-offence. “I didn't realise we were at that point yet.”

“What?” Enjolras asked, tilting his head to look at Grantaire upside-down.

Leaning down until his mouth was by Enjolras’ ear, Grantaire spoke on a voice little more than a whisper. “That noise was utterly indecent.” Enjolras shivered because, okay yes, fine, that was hot. But honestly, who wouldn't find it hot? It was then that Enjolras noticed the disapproving looks of Joly and Musichetta who were sitting across the room, Joly in Chetta’s lap. Trying to shake both that hot, coiling feeling, and the niggling worm of guilt brought back by his friends’ dislike of the situation, he sat forward slightly in his chair, doing his best to ignore the warmth of Grantaire’s body against his back, and refreshed his email.

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” he exclaimed, suddenly completely alert. A new email was sitting at the top of his inbox, bright white against the grey of the read messages below it, and the subject read  _ ‘2017 Prom host candidates’.  _ Grantaire stepped back, giving him space to stand as he opened up the email.

Feuilly was at his side in a second. “What's the verdict?”

“We're running, right?” Jehan said, hopping on the desk next to Enjolras’ laptop, where Courfeyrac had previously been.

“Of course we're running. There aren't that many service clubs,  _ and  _ we've never hosted,  _ and  _ we're no longer considered super controversial,” said Combeferre, but he too was leaning in, anxious to hear.

Enjolras scrolled down to the bottom of the email, under the list of rules, and there were two club names, and there was the ABC, top of the list. “We're in!” there were hoots and yells of triumph from all, and hugging all around. After embracing most of his friends, including Bahorel who had lifted him clean off the floor and spun him around as he squealed, Enjolras turned to Grantaire, hesitating before being pulled into his arms and being held there for several seconds in a comfortably warm, strong squeeze.

After drawing back, Grantaire held onto his shoulders and looked into his eyes. And wow, Grantaire’s eyes were green. Enjolras wondered if he'd ever get used to that. “Not that I'm surprised,” Grantaire said, grinning broadly. “I always believed in you.” Enjolras couldn’t have stopped smiling if he wanted to, and at that point, he laughed with pure, unbridled joy.

“So what’s next?” asked Feuilly, snapping Enjolras back into the matter at hand.

“Right. The fundraiser. We have two ideas we need to get rid of one, and if anyone has anything better, I’d be absolutely delighted to hear it.”

*

Montparnasse got home from school on Tuesday and went directly to his room to take off his binder, as he always did. Wearing it as long as he did on school days was cutting it close, as far as safety went, and his ribs were  _ always _ aching by the time he made it into the house. As much as he hated his chest, he was quite fond of his ribs, and didn't want to damage them by doing something stupid.

Replacing his binder with a tight tank top and throwing his black t-shirt back over the top, he headed to the kitchen to find food. Since grade 10, Montparnasse had become someone who was constantly hungry, and although he wished he could blame the testosterone shots for that, he figured it probably had more to do with being a teenager than anything else.

After locating a full packet of roasted almonds and half a bottle of milk, Montparnasse left the kitchen, sustenance in hand, only to run directly into Jehan in the doorway. Wait, Jehan? He froze, his blood running cold, holding his milk and almonds over his chest, hoping against hope that they didn’t notice anything.

“Montparnasse! Oh my gosh, I was  _ hoping  _ to run into you,” said Jehan, looking genuinely pleased to see him. Their hair was open in all its glory, like a red lion’s mane, and as always, they looked like they’d picked clothes randomly out of a bohemian market. Parnasse blinked and swallowed. “Enj said you’d be home anytime.” A pause. “I’m just getting us some snacks. We’re working on a history project.” They seemed to perk up even further as they remembered something. “Oh, I have something for you!”

“Uh… you do?” Parnasse asked, still trying to remain calm and not look too obvious. He wished he was one of those trans guys who had barely developed breast tissue, but alas, that was so completely not the case. Fuck nature.

Jehan nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I’ll just… get the snacks, and then I’ll um… bring it up to your room?”

“Okay. Great. Uh… thanks.”

They manoeuvred around each other, Montparnasse not moving his arms from over his chest, before he stormed right up to Enjolras’ room and stomped straight in. Enjolras looked up from the papers that were splayed over the floor to see Parnasse, and his expression went from pleased to confused. But he wasn’t the only one in the room. Feuilly and Combeferre were also sitting on the carpet flicking through papers, now looking at him with blank expressions. Montparnasse’s eyes widened.

“Hey Parnasse,” said Feuilly awkwardly. He did not bother to reply, or even to force a smile in Feuilly’s direction.

“Enjolras? Could we have a word  _ outside _ please?” he asked, his tone and face both suggesting both that there was something important to discuss, and that Enjolras had done something horribly.

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “Can this wait? We’re sort of busy.”

“No. It can’t,” said Parnasse, accenting every syllable. Enjolras sighed and pushed himself up off the floor, following Montparnasse into his room. Parnasse slammed his milk and almonds onto his desk and spun to face his brother.

“How could you not tell me you were having…  _ people  _ over today?” he spat.

Blinking, Enjolras looked taken aback. “Oh. I did tell you though. At dinner yesterday. I mean… technically I told Papa, but you were at the table at the time.”

Parnasse scoffed. “At  _ dinner _ ? You know I never pay attention at dinner! There’s  _ food.  _ How am I supposed to pay attention to what people are saying when it’s usually boring shit about your fucking service club when I'm  _ eating _ ?”

“Why is this bothering you so much?” Enjolras asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not like me having friends over is a rare occurrence.”

“Well  _ usually  _ I either know about it beforehand, or I’m home before they are.” Montparnasse gave a huff and crossed his arms. “Usually I don’t run into people in the kitchen when I’m not expecting to see anyone outside of the family.”

Realisation dawned on Enjolras face. “Oh. Right, we sent Jehan down for snacks. No, yeah, sorry, I should have warned you, or something.”

“Yeah. You should have. Maybe one day you won’t be quite so slow on the uptake and will think about these things earlier,” Parnasse said.

“Okay, wow. I’m sort of in the wrong here, so I’ll forgive you for the patronising tone, but also just… okay, never mind. It’s fine,” said Enjolras retreating towards the door. “But you might want to think about taking the opportunity to ask Jehan out. You know. For Cosette, and for your honour.”

“Fuck you,” Parnasse shouted after him as Enjolras turned and disappeared back into his room. Montparnasse turned to his wardrobe and grabbed out his purple-black plaid shirt, which he probably wouldn’t wear in public, but it looked casual, and when it hung open, it did more to disguise his chest than the plain t-shirt. Standing in front of his full-length mirror, Montparnasse adjusted it so that it fell in the least awkward way possible and grabbing his snacks, he dropped onto his bed and took a gulp of milk. He pulled out his phone and started browsing, winding down for the afternoon among his excessive number of pillows. Outside his door, he heard Jehan heading back to Enjolras’ room, presumably laden down with food and drinks, from the sound of the rattling.

Montparnasse sat up in his bed and tried to look casual but… but good. He sighed, shaking his head, and he figured it was about time he looked at things the way they were. The fact of the matter was that he liked Jehan. He liked them. Like, he had a crush on them. There wasn’t really any hiding from it, and there was no other explanation for his compulsion to be presentable and to please around them, but accepting that? It made things difficult. It turned his deal with Enjolras into him actually  _ wanting  _ to ask Jehan out. Feelings. Gross.

He was just rolling up the cuffs of his shirt when Jehan appeared in the doorway, rapping on the wood of the door, a small smile on their face. Parnasse felt his stomach flutter slightly (ridiculous) at the sight of them and their high-waisted flared jeans over an orange and purple paisley shirt with a silver beaded waistcoat. Only they would wear such a monstrous combination, yet only they could still look good that way. Their smile and confidence only let their clothes enhance the rest of them, and they were… well, beautiful. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, toes wriggling as he did his best to appear as confident as they were.

“You going to come in, or just stand there?” Montparnasse asked with a smirk. Jehan breathed a laugh and rolled their eyes, stepping forward into the room so that Parnasse could see that they were holding a book. So they'd made good on that promise, he thought.

They paused though, in the centre of the room and looked around at the walls, taking in this space which Montparnasse had done his best to make his own. Montparnasse had only been allowed to paint one of his four walls black, no matter how hard he’d argued for more, but he’d hung framed monochrome pictures of various bands and musicians, and old film stars on the walls. There was also a photo of himself and his friends taken by Grantaire on a late night after some party in a field, and one of himself and Cosette which she’d given him, but he didn’t like to draw attention to them. They were sort of sappy, as much as he secretly liked them.

“Wow. I didn’t really peg you as a Katharine Hepburn fan,” said Jehan, turning back to Montparnasse, a curious look on their face.

Montparnasse felt at once slightly defensive and stood up, re-adjusting his shirt as he did so. “Hey, who can see her movies and say they’re  _ not  _ a fan? She’s brilliant.”

Jehan laughed. Jehan laughed a lot, Parnasse noted. “I’ll give you that one. James Dean, though? Definitely expected. But with a collection like this, I would have expected Marlon Brando as well.”

“He was an asshole,” Parnasse said, as if that was all the explanation he needed.

“Glad to hear you say it,” Jehan responded, taking two steps towards him, making his stomach rise into his chest. “And though I’m glad I can see we agree on many things musically from this as well, I have to laugh.” Montparnasse sent them a questioning look. “You’ll watch old films which most teenagers today will immediately dismiss as boring and lame, and yet you don’t read.”

Shrugging Montparnasse rolled his eyes. “They’re different. Movies, I feel like I know what I’m getting, more. The books in this house were always intensely political or historical, even when fictional. And I get enough of that kind of talk just living in the same house as these people, I guess,” he contemplated.

“Good that you realise where it’s coming from,” said Jehan, taking another step forward before freezing. “Wait. Does this mean you never read Harry Potter?”

“I may not actively read, but I’m not evil. Of course I read Harry Potter! What do you take me for? They were all out by the time I was eight, and Cosette made Enj and me read them all to her when Valjean first took us in. We made a thing of it--” Montparnasse paused. He hadn’t meant to say quite that much. He gave Jehan a sideways look only to see them gazing attentively up at him with an encouraging smile. “Sorry. But yes, I’ve read Harry Potter.”

“Well that’s something, then. I was afraid I’d have to start you on the fundamentals, if you hadn’t. But here.” Jehan held out the book they’d been holding so that the title was facing towards Montparnasse. It was somewhat worn, but just to the point where it looked loved, like it had been read many times over.

“‘A Monster Calls’,” he read, secretly thrilled that Jehan had taken the time to pick out a book for him to read. “By Patrick Ness. This is what you want me to read?”

Nodding, Jehan pushed the book in Parnasse’s direction, forcing him to take it. “You were saying how you thought reading as a whole was for a certain demographic, or whatever. And that’s so untrue. Some books aren’t even written for a specific demographic. Some books are just… for everyone. This book is like that.”

Opening the cover, Montparnasse flicked through the pages, inspecting them. He raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze back to Jehan, smirking again. “You sure this isn’t a kid's book? It’s full of pictures.”

“Oh my god, did you not listen to anything I just said?” they laughed. “No. It’s a book for everyone. At least… over the age of nine. There's some dark stuff in there. But I mean, sure there are books that seem more relevant to you in particular when I think about it, but I think this is a good one to start on. To get that certain books aren’t just for certain people. Although I do have a long list of novels I think you’d really enjoy so… if you finish this one and want more recommendations, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Montparnasse couldn’t stop his smirk turning into a real smile. The fact that Jehan cared enough to think about this to such a length was just… a little too much in that moment. “Thanks.”

“Also if that doesn’t make you cry,” Jehan continued, nodding at the book in Parnasse’s hands, “nothing will. I  _ bawled  _ at the end. You have  _ no  _ idea. Just wait.”

Puzzled, Parnasse drew in a breath, pausing before speaking. “Then uh- why are you grinning about it like that?”

“Well, think about movies. You’ve cried at movies before, right?” Well, Montparnasse _had_ , and often, but he wasn’t about to admit that right at this moment, was he? Understanding that look, Jehan continued. “Yeah, okay, you have. It’s exactly like that. The books that make you feel the most are the best ones. Words are pretty powerful, even without sound and images.” Wow, they were entrancing when they talked like that. All passion.

“But this book has images,” Parnasse joked, causing Jehan to sigh in exasperation.

“Well yes, but… you’ll see what I mean. There is a movie of it though, and that’s also pretty… pretty amazing. Maybe after you read it we could…” Montparnasse’s heart leapt at those words, his stomach clenching. Did that--? “or… you could watch it.” A dash of disappointment flashed through him at this amendment, but he remained externally dignified.

“And why not just watch the movie?” he teased.

“Trust me,” said Jehan with all sincerity, locking their rich dark eyes on Montparnasse. “You want to read the book.”

Averting his eyes from that intensity, Parnasse nodded and adjusted his shirt over his chest. “Thanks. I’ll uh… get back to you on it after I read it.”  _ Go on, _ a little voice in his head was saying.  _ Ask them out now. Do it! Or you’ll regret it! Listen to Shia Labeouf: JUST DO IT!  _ Montparnasse, however, dismissed that voice, telling it to shut the fuck up and stop meme-ing. Why was his mind shouting about ancient memes? Despicable.

“Great,” said Jehan, and they turned to go. At the doorway though, they caught their breath and turned back to face Parnasse, looking nervous, yet determined. “You know the fundraiser we’re doing on Saturday?” they asked.

“I know  _ of  _ it.”

“Well, I can send you the details if you want, but it’s sort of a competition. It should be really fun, but we’re allowed to do it in groups, or pairs. Would you want to maybe… pair up for it?”

“Yes,” Parnasse said, a little too quickly. “I-- I mean, yeah, sure. That could be cool.”

Jehan looked pleasantly surprised as they laughed at his response. “Awesome. Great. Well… entry is 15 euros per person, but the winner or winning team wins 130 euros, so could be a great deal if we come out on top.”

“130 euros, huh?” Parnasse asked with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Jehan replied, losing their smile for a moment. “That whole… situation. But uh… I’ll get your number from Enjolras and text you details?”

“Sounds good. You should probably get back to history, though. Don’t want them to think you’re not doing any of the work.”

Grinning and biting their lip (which should, quite frankly, not be allowed), Jehan turned and literally skipped two steps on their way back to Enjolras’ room.

Montparnasse collapsed back onto his bed, still holding the book, and allowed himself the broad grin he’d been withholding. When did he become such a sap? The person he was in that moment was so far from the person he tried to portray, but there was no holding back his excitement at the idea of competing with Jehan at Enjolras’ stupid service groups’ stupid fundraiser.

Sighing, Parnasse reached for the almonds and poured a few too many into his mouth before leaving the packet beside him and opening the book (which he was so eager to start) to the first page.

_ The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do… _

*

“I love how every year, this is the only fundraiser people actually participate in all year,” Brujon was saying at their weekly morning meetup when Montparnasse arrived, tired from staying up too late reading ‘A Monster Calls’. He was already over half-way, and enjoying it far more than he’d originally expected. But missing out on Wednesday coffee with the squad just to read some book? Montparnasse was so not about to do that. That would be low.

Eponine was sitting in her usual armchair applying dark red lipstick with the help of her phone’s front camera. Between that and her razor-sharp eyeliner, she never looked less than threateningly hot. Finishing off applying colour, she put the lid back on her lipstick and looked up. “Of course people are going to participate in this fundraiser. They want a good prom, and whichever club raises the most with a single no-budget fundraiser gets to host it. People want great decorations, fun music, good lighting, food, and an entertaining theme all as part of their prom. That’s why the prom host selection fundraiser is always so much fun- the clubs want people to get involved so they can get chosen.”

Gueulemer blinked at her. “Why do you know so much about this?”

“Grantaire, Marius,” Eponine shrugged. “And Cosette, of course. She somehow knows everything about her brothers and what they do,” she smirked, eyeing Montparnasse in a way that made him blush and take a sip of coffee. He wasn’t sure he wanted Eponine to clarify what she knew, already knowing that Cosette was far too perceptive for her own good. Jesus Christ, how had things ended up like this? Two of his friends knew his siblings better than they knew him. Grantaire had been on a date (well… “date”) with Enjolras and was in love with the guy, and Eponine and Cosette were together almost constantly (i.e. whenever Eponine wasn’t with the rest of them). It was definitely unsettling. Between those four, they probably knew almost everything about him that there was to know.

“Don’t say a word,” said Montparnasse at the same time that Babet said “oh, do tell!” Montparnasse glared at Babet.

“Aren’t you meant to be the mum-friend of this group?” he asked. Babet shrugged, grinning.

“So what’s the deal with the fundraiser this year?” asked Gueulemer. I mean I know Habitat’s is really boring, so we’re not doing that, but the ABC one is like… a scavenger hunt or something? I mean, as long as the prom theme isn’t as dumb as their name, they’re the obvious favourites.”

“Yeah, clearly,” Eponine said, and flicked her hair back with a black-nailed hand, preparing for an explanation. “So basically they have a list of tasks to complete, and you need to have photo or video evidence of all of the tasks you complete, which you need to send to their club’s chat over text or Facebook or whatever. And you have to be back within the designated time. You can work alone or in teams. More information is being sent out later today.”

Montparnasse raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Hold on. How do you know all this?  _ I  _ don't even know all of this,” and  _ he'd  _ gotten a few extra details from Jehan. _ And  _ he lived with Enjolras. 

“Well,” Eponine began, as if speaking to a child, slowing down and articulating. “Cosette actually  _ listens  _ to Enjolras and his talk, and I'm actually  _ interested  _ in hearing it all from her because  _ I  _ want a gorgeous, lovely prom.” Montparnasse huffed, mildly bitter. It was true that Enjolras and him didn't talk a whole lot unless there was a purpose to it, and it was  _ also  _ true that Cosette connected far better with each of the brothers than they did with each other. They both had things in common with her, and she often seemed like the only thing the two of them had in common. “Everyone's getting involved with the ABC’s fundraiser. It's going to be a total blast,” Eponine continued.

“Man, I wish I could join,” said Babet wistfully. “But alas, that part of my life is over, and I have passed the baton on to the rest of you to enjoy high school while you can. I must say though, that the fundraisers were usually way less cool than this, from what it sounds like.”

Claquesous sat forward in his armchair, putting in for the first time since Montparnasse’s arrival. “So we’re doing this as a team, right?” he said, lifting his cup, the white porcelain stark against his slender dark fingers. Ah. Fuck. Montparnasse looked down into the blackness of his espresso, doing his best to look casual about it.

“Of course we are,” said Gueulemer immediately, smiling at Claquesous whose lips twitched in response.

Brujon shrugged. “I’m game. Sounds like it’ll be a cool day.”

“Sorry, guys, but--”

“You said you’d do it with Cosette, Marius, or Grantaire?” Claquesous said, cutting Eponine off.

“Um, first of all,” said Eponine, folding her arms defensively, “Marius would be the worst person to have on a scavenger hunt, unless it’s something languages related. Secondly, Grantaire isn’t taking part, because he’s too busy supporting his darling Apollo, or whatever, who needs to organise and help run this thing. Something like that, anyhow.”

“So Cosette,” finished Claquesous, and Eponine nodded with pursed lips in confirmation, although her eyes her smiling.

Babet was looking inquisitively at Montparnasse with a smug smile on his face. He leant forward, eyes seeming to peer into Montparnasse’s very core as he tried to avoid Babet’s gaze. “I think our little Parnasse has something he’s not telling us. Are you having reservations about taking part in this?” Parnasse felt everyone turn to face him, their eyes searing into his skin. “Or perhaps just about taking part as a group?”

“What are you even talking about?” he scoffed, forcing himself to look up into Babet’s long, intelligent face.

Claquesous narrowed his eyes in Montparnasse’s direction, making him gulp. Against cheekbones that sharp, it was difficult not to feel threatened. “Why don’t you want to do this?” Claquesous’ voice came out surprisingly gentle.

“No reason,” said Parnasse with a shrug before sipping his coffee. There was silence as everyone just looked at him, Babet and Eponine clearly particularly amused at his discomfort. “I said I’d do it with someone else, is all.”

“You have other friends?” teased Gueulemer before exclaiming “hey!” when Claquesous smacked him in the arm.

Montparnasse felt himself going red. Damn this pale skin. Why did he blush so easily? “No it’s just… one of my brother’s friends asked me to pair up and I… couldn’t exactly say no.”

Babet leaned back in his chair once more, smugger than ever. “Correct me if I’m wrong, folks,” he said, “but it appears that Montparnasse has a crush.” Sounds of agreement sounded from the others.

“You sentimental little shit!” said Brujon grinning as he scrunched up his face. “Who is she?”

“Or he,” Gueulemer prompted immediately, turning to Brujon. “We don’t judge.” Claquesous was just staring intently at Parnasse, taking in his expression. He nodded in what would have been a reassuring way, had it not been Claquesous. As it was, however, it simply appeared vaguely terrifying.

“I  _ don’t  _ have a crush,” Parnasse lied through his teeth. “We just… know each other. And I felt bad.”

“Oh come on, let’s lay off,” said Eponine, smiling even as she nodded at the others. “He doesn’t have to tell us. We’ll find out soon enough anyway, won’t we?”

Babet shrugged. “As long as you all fill me in after Saturday,” he said. “I want to hear all about Montparnasse’s little  _ crush _ .”

“It’s  _ not  _ a _ crush _ !” he said a little too loud, but was met with only laughs. He huffed, sulking. Why were these the people he'd chosen to be friends with?

*

Enjolras was walking between people who were positioned around the school’s central courtyard, frantically trying to make sure everything was perfect before anyone was let into the building in just a few minutes. Everything had to be ready to go. And if it wasn't? Well then he could wave goodbye to his chance of the ABC hosting the prom.

“Feuilly? The banner looks great... I like the colours. Okay. Okay, are you good? Are you ready? You know what you're doing?” Enjolras was aware that he rambled when nervous or excited, but that didn't stop the occurrence.

Feuilly shook his head with a smile. “Oh my god, Enjolras. Of  _ course  _ I'm ready. We're  _ all  _ ready. You need to calm down. You're  _ not  _ the one speaking today. Bahorel is going to get everyone excited for this. You're okay. We're all okay,” he said. Tersely, Enjolras nodded, and went to talk to Bahorel.

“Enjolras! What's up?” Bahorel asked when he saw an uptight Enjolras approaching at an alarming pace. At this point, Enjolras was so used to being the speaker for all their events and video clips that letting Bahorel speak this time felt like giving up the reins. He barely felt in-control, although he’d been the one to designate tasks and make sure everyone was on track.

“Are you ready? To speak? Do you know what you’re saying?” said Enjolras, too fast.

Bahorel’s forehead creased. “Do you have no faith in me?” he asked, then chortled. “Yes, I know what I’m saying. I know this event. It was my idea, remember? Mine and Bossuet’s. Trust me, I’m gonna get everyone so hyped. It’ll be fine.”

It was true that getting participants ‘hyped’ for a fun competition where the focus for said participants wasn’t directly on social justice was not what Enjolras was cut out for. It was why Bahorel was speaking in the first place. Enjolras nodded and swallowed, trying to feel reassured, but just… nervous that everything would go to the dogs.

“Hey, why don’t you go find someone to talk to? Just to calm down a bit,” said Bahorel, gently. “Everything’s fine. We’ve got this. Go find Combeferre or something.”

Enjolras huffed. “He and Musichetta are finishing up the filing system for the videos. To make things easier for us. Everyone’s busy.”

Bahorel looked around, his height giving him that extra sight advantage. “Hm… Grantaire’s not busy?” Looking down at his feet which were shifting in their red converse, Enjolras shook his head. Bahorel hummed thoughtfully. “I know you did something stupid, but I also know that ignoring Grantaire now is even more unkind because you  _ know  _ that’s wrong. Which you didn’t know when you--” Bahorel cut off and shut his eyes for a moment in an attempt to stay calm before they fluttered open again. “Okay. Soon, you are going to have to tell him you feel like you’re better as friends. Obviously. But I know you don’t hate him either.”

Enjolras blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that kind of talk coming from Bahorel. “What?” Bahorel asked with a smirk. “Am I not supposed to be the wise one? I can be fun  _ and  _ smart you know.”

Enjolras forced a laugh and nodded. “Yup, I know you’re smart. You’re the best person the debate club has ever had on it,” he said, before turning and walking towards Grantaire, taking Bahorel’s advice.

“Whatever the debate club people told you, it’s a lie!” Bahorel yelled after him. Shaking his head at his friend’s deep hatred of his talents, Enjolras took a deep breath as he walked towards Grantaire who was sitting on the low stone wall at the edge of the courtyard, jotting notes down in the margins of some book. He looked up and closed the book as Enjolras got closer, putting it to the side.

“Well well, if it isn’t our very own column of righteous fury,” said Grantaire, grinning. He paused, face changing entirely. “Are you okay? You look super tense.”

Enjolras ran a hand through his curls and shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, everything’s just really stressful, but everyone’s saying it’s all going to be fine and… Bahorel said I should come talk to you. And try and… wind down or something? I don’t… I don’t know.”

Sighing, Grantaire smiled again and moved over on the wall to leave space for Enjolras. The wall was wide enough to comfortably sit whichever way one wanted without fearing for one’s life about falling over the edge. Enjolras hopped up onto the wall and swung his legs, kicking his heels against the stone. It was a cloudy day, and not a particularly warm one (though the chance of rain seemed slim), and slowing himself down now, Enjolras did begin to feel the chill a little.

“You know today’s going to be amazing, don’t you?” said Grantaire, looking directly at Enjolras who shrugged, not looking back. “I  _ know _ it will. You want to know why?”

Sighing, Enjolras finally turned to look at Grantaire, seeing a lot of feeling in his face, and blushing. “Why?” he asked, voice much weaker than he’d intended.

Grantaire was smiling as he edged closer to Enjolras, though he looked cautious. He raised his hand hesitantly before tucking a golden curl behind Enjolras’ ear, then locking eyes again, hand not moving. “Because all this? Everything the ABC has done and is doing and will do in the future? It’s because of you.” Grantaire dropped his hand and laughed, looking away. Enjolras, though, was still staring at him, eyes fixed on his face. “Also probably because it’s the first time I didn’t argue with you about an event, and when I don’t get involved things always end up better, I guess.”

“That’s not true!” Enjolras immediately said, frowning. He knew that Grantaire was self-deprecating about almost everything and really, it was one of the things that bothered him most about Grantaire- how such a talented, multi-faceted person could have such an immense dislike for themselves, and could only see the worst in themselves, was beyond him.

Grantaire was looking at him with a raised brow and a wry smile. “I appreciate your trying to console me or whatever, and I hate to burst your bubble, if that’s what I’m doing, but yeah. It’s true.”

“No!” Enjolras insisted, head shaking. “No it isn’t. Even when it’s in a fight, you come up with some of our best ideas! Like… we were the only group representing queer amnesty at Pride last summer, and we raised loads. After you told me that if we wanted to support any causes, we should show it directly. That was because of you. And yes, this is going to be our best turn-out yet, but the prom selection is always the biggest turn-out, and we’ve never been in the running before. And--”

“Okay, okay. I get the point, Jeez. Stop trying to make me blush,” Grantaire joked, leaning in and nudging Enjolras with his shoulder. “Not that I’m wrong about before, but I’ll shut up about it if you will.” Enjolras breathed heavily in frustration, but didn’t say anything for a moment. The more he learnt about Grantaire (and he’d learnt a lot since that date just over a week ago), the more he liked the guy. And the more he liked him, the more unfair it seemed that Grantaire thought so little of himself. Every person deserved to feel like they mattered.

“You know you’re important though, right?” Enjolras said after a few seconds of listening to the happenings of the set-up, turning his head to look at Grantaire who gazed back at him, eyes deep, pupils dilated.

Grantaire breathing hitched loud enough to hear and he nodded. It was a small nod, there, though barely. “Maybe.” Pause. Enjolras felt his lips twitch upwards into a smile. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Grantaire checked the time on the screen and looked back up at Enjolras, grinning again. “You should get back out there if you’re feeling okay now. Things are about to start. Courf’s letting them all in in two minutes.”

“Will you come?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire just looked at him, forehead creased as if to say ‘really? You’re actually asking me that?’ “I’ll take that as a yes,” Enjolras said, and hopped down off the wall, walking over to the stage, ready to run on with the rest of the club when the students came flooding in, Grantaire at his side, the rest of the members convening.

“Have you seen the crowd outside?” said Bossuet as he came running. “It’s crazier than I thought! We’re such a hit!”

Joly squealed in response and hugged Bossuet tight around the middle. “Oh I’m so excited,” he practically shrieked after letting go.

“Okay, final review- who’s taking part and who’s staying here marking?” asked Enjolras, raising his voice to be heard over everyone else. “Everyone staying here raise your hand!” Grantaire, Combeferre, Bahorel, and himself raised their hands. “And Courf and Jehan are also taking part. Great. Fantastic. Okay, positions, they’ll be coming in any moment!”

*

Jehan had been the one to sell Montparnasse’s fundraiser ticket to him when he’d arrived at school that morning before he’d had the chance to meet up with his friends. They’d been grinning ear to ear as they handed him his ticket in exchange for the money.

“I’ll see you once we’re in there,” they’d said, leaning close to Parnasse before biting their lip and walking off, leaving Montparnasse gaping at their purple jacket and green dungarees from behind.

Someone slapped him on the back then, breaking him out of his trance with the sheer force which was obviously intended to be playful. “We found you,” roared Gueulemer. “Thought you’d already be off with this secret someone.” Montparnasse rolled his eyes and turned to greet his friends.

“So? Where is the mysterious person?” Brujon asked, looking around as if Montparnasse might be hiding them behind him. “Also have you seen Eponine?”

“No, I haven’t seen her. And also, I think you forget that the person I said I’d do this with is one of my brother’s friends,” he said reluctantly. Parnasse wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that his friends would soon find out that it was Jehan he fancied. He didn’t even bother pretending he didn’t fancy someone, even to them. “You lot have tickets?”

“Yes,” said Claquesous. “And we’ll be winning that money, so we’ll be better off in the long run.” He always sounded so sure of himself, Claquesous. So certain. Gueulemer clearly agreed, with the way he was smiling confidently at him.

The squeaking of an adjusting microphone could be heard coming from a large speaker near the school entrance and Montparnasse spotted a figure (probably Courfeyrac) standing up on some kind of platform above everyone else so that he could be seen (which he certainly wouldn’t be on the floor, what with his height).

“Attention all!” came Courfeyrac’s excited voice over the speaker. “Hello, and thank you so much for coming to take part in this fundraiser scavenger hunt! We’re thrilled with the turn-out here today.” A few of the crowd members cheered, earning a finger pointed at them by Courfeyrac. The turn-out was truly impressive. It seemed like over 100 people had turned up for the event, which was more than usually attended any kind of school event, school spirit being so minimal. To be fair, the fact that Montparnasse and his friends were at a school event was a miracle in itself. “So. We’re about to open these doors and let you into the courtyard where you’ll be met by the rest of the ABC!” More cheers. “But! In order to take part, you’re going to want to grab a flyer on the way in, or things are going to get difficult for you later on. So with that, come on in!”

The cheers from the crowd of students only increased in volume as people began speaking again and they all flooded in the main entrance and headed towards the school. Montparnasse succeeded in separating himself from his friends and grabbing one of the flyers on the way in the door, not paying too much attention to it.

Parnasse stood near the stage while Bahorel started talking, getting the crowd ramped up for what was to come, but Montparnasse was watch Jehan who was standing at the side of the stage with the rest of the group. He searched the crowd for a few seconds and located Cosette, who appeared to be giggling into Eponine’s shoulder while Eponine herself gazed adoringly at her. Sickening really, but Montparnasse smiled at the hopeless pair, glad they were as close as they were. Even if it was kind of weird.

“The flyers you should have picked up on your way in,” Bahorel was saying, “have a rather long list on them. A list of tasks. Some are pretty simple, but some are damn  _ crazy _ , you guys, okay? Like, some of these, I would struggle to do.  _ But  _ each task warrants a different number of points, as you can see in the column at the right. So the team or individual with the most points will win the 130 euros. But  _ only  _ if you are back here by no later than nine-thirty tonight! That gives you just over ten hours, people!” Murmurs were heard amongst the crowd. “At nine-thirty, the front doors close, and there’s no getting back in. i.e. bye-bye! You lose. So are you all ready?” The crowd roared their approval. Montparnasse looked back at Jehan who locked eyes with him, a spark of mischief in them. “Alright then. 3… 2… 1… aaaand GO!”

At the word go, everyone around Parnasse went wild, hurtling towards the exit. He blinked and stood stock still until he spotted Jehan again, making their way towards him. When they reached one another, Jehan spoke. “We could take this seriously, or we could have fun with it. I think a bit of both sounds good. How about you? Both?”

“Both is good,” Parnasse replied with a nod. Without any warming but a disarming smile, Jehan took his hand and starting leading his towards the entrance. Parnasse’s eyes widened and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, because wow, that was distracting, and damn, their hands were soft.

Once they left the school way behind most of the other teams, Jehan looked back up at him. They still hadn’t let go of his hand. “I’m hoping you have a valid pass for public transport?” they said, squinting one eye.

“Please. Who in this place under 18 doesn’t have an all-year train pass? It’s not like it’s a private school where everyone has drivers,” Parnasse scoffed.

“You’d be surprised. I couldn’t manage without mine either, though. Probably my most treasured possession. Allows me to go anywhere anytime I want. Well, come on then. What should be our first task?” Squeezing his hand, Jehan tugged him lightly in the direction of the train station which, although it was a longer walk, promised to be less full than the bus which had just arrived was filling up rapidly.

Montparnasse pulled out the flyer he’d shoved into his pocket and examined it. There were a  _ lot  _ of tasks on that list. How about…” Parnasse didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Jehan suddenly got very excited when they looked over his shiulder.

“Ooh! A flower chain of at least 20 flowers? I mean, it’s not a lot of points, but there are loads of flowers on the way down to the station. I can make it while we walk?” they suggested, looking altogether far too thrilled at the prospect of a flower chain.

Parnasse shrugged. “Sure. Sounds easy. And we send pictures to the number on the flyer?”

“Oh yeah, that’s just Combeferre’s old number. I already have it, don’t worry.”

“Great. Then… flower chain, here we come?” Montparnasse smiled and Jehan laughed, and wow, Parnasse was really going to have to make that happen more often.

Two hours later, and the two of them had already made a flower chain, proposed to a total stranger, painted the other’s toenails using only their feet, found a slogan which included a pun, and done push-ups while eating ice-cream, and in all, it had been a wonderful day so far which had been chock-full of laughter. That included Parnasse’s laughter, to his own surprise.

Montparnasse was pleased to discover how free it was possible to feel around someone like Jehan. Sure, he loved his friends, not that he ever told them, but there always seemed to be a limit on how much he felt he could say, and how masculine he had to be with them. Which he knew was stupid, that none of his friends would really care if he didnt act that way, and that it was all internal, but that didn’t stop him feeling that way. Around Jehan though? It felt like every instinct was enhanced, was almost inevitable. Walking through town, making jokes and finishing the ice cream they’d bought for their most recent challenge. Jehan had bought theirs in a cone and honestly? Parnasse was just trying his best to keep his eyes off them as they licked around it.

“I finished the book,” he said, in an attempt to distract himself.

Jehan blinked at him. “How was that not the first thing you told me? Did you like it? Did it live up to expectations? Did you cry?” they asked very fast.

Biting his lip and shaking his head, Montparnasse looked up at the overcast sky. “I’ve got to hand it to you,” he admitted without elaboration. He’d cried like that at movies before, though rarely, but it had been a long time. And such an impact without even seeing anyone else’s face? Without hearing the broken voices? It was undeniably impressive.

“Oh my goodness, I would say I told you so, but oh, I’m just so pleased! So? Do you need another book? Are you hooked on reading yet?” They looked so thrilled and so invested in this newfound interest, grin broad and contagious, spread over their face. The tut and sigh Montparnasse gave was answer enough. Jehan practically squealed. “Okay okay. I have a list in my notes of books for you. I’ll bring you another one on Monday. And you can return ‘A Monster Calls’ and look at that, new hobby! Oh how exciting, I’ve converted another.”

Parnasse laughed staring incredulously down at them. How was there so much enthusiasm and life in such a small person? “Thanks, I think,” he said, cautious.

“You’re welcome.”  

Pulling the flyer out of his back pocket, Parnasse unfolded it, scanning over the crossed-off tasks. “What should we try next, then?” he asked, looking down the list. “We haven’t really done any high scoring ones yet. We won’t win my 130 euros back at this rate.”

“I’d… been meaning to ask you about that actually,” Jehan said, all at once hesitant. It was clear that this had been bothering them, and Parnasse wished they’d brought it up earlier. “You didn’t… mean for Enjolras to… ask out Grantaire. Did you?”

Montparnasse sighed. This was something to answer seriously. “No. I would never want to put Grantaire in that position. He’s my friend as well, and I know how he feels about Enjolras, it’s sort of hard to miss. That would be unfair. I just made the deal because I wanted to make Cosette happy, more than anything. Grantaire wasn’t even in my mind when I thought of that. I was just as angry when I found out about it.”

Looking relieved and pleased, Jehan nodded. “I didn't think you did. Thank you, though. For clarifying.” With the sincerity of that moment over, they seemed to perk up again. “So I think we should change clothes on a mannequin next. To get them points up,” they suggested before sweeping their tongue around their slowly dripping ice cream, Montparnasse’s eyes following the movement, his lips parted.

“Sounds good,” he said. He didn’t sound quite himself.

“Fab. Okay, so you’re going to be the one to do this. I’ll film, or whatever.”

“What? Why me?” Parnasse asked, exasperated.

“Because,” Jehan began, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you’re wearing all black. Like always. Give me your leather jacket, and you could practically pass as a shop assistant. No one will even question you.”

Montparnasse made an offended sound. “Excuse you, I dress  _ way  _ better than a shop assistant.” And that had Jehan laughing again, much to Montparnasse’s faux disgruntlement.

It was nine o’clock that night when the train broke down on their way back to school, but they were still closer to the city than to the school.

Montparnasse turned to look at Jehan after the announcement was made over the loudspeaker. “We’re not getting back to the school tonight, are we?”

“Nope,” Jehan giggled. “I guess not. Wow, and all those points for nothing?”

Montparnasse considered that for a moment. “Yes, I doubt I would ever have worn orange lipstick in my life is not for today. Really, Jehan.  _ Orange.  _ My complexion was not made for  _ orange _ .”

“I love how that’s the part that bothers you most, and not the ‘kissing a public bathroom mirror’ bit,” they joked. The pair of them got out of the train and started the walk to the nearest bus stop. Which would not get them to school on time, but would get them to another train so that they could get home. “And? Was it worth it?” Jehan asked. Montparnasse looked at them. It was dark outside now, and he was grateful for his jacket, though still a bit cold, and the distant lamplight that fell on Jehan’s face illuminated it just enough to make out their freckles.

“Today?” Parnasse asked to confirm. Jehan nodded. Was it worth it? The question didn’t warrant much thought, but the crazy things they’d done that day? The laughs they’d had? The looks they’d shared? “If I could, I’d do it all again,” he said before he could second guess himself. Next to him, Jehan stopped, the gravel crunching under their feet was silent when Parnasse halted as well, stock-still in front of them. They were looking up at him with a soft expression, bottom lip between their teeth (and how was that not outlawed yet?).

“Me too,” they replied. Montparnasse shifted his feet, the sound of the gravel one of the loudest things around them.

“I was… meaning to ask you something,” he began, his heart sticking in his throat. They looked up at him, inquisitively, silent and waiting. This was it. He’d started, and now he had to follow through. “I was wondering if you’d… if you want. Not that you have to, but… would you maybe want to go out sometime?” Jehan’s face went blank. They blinked twice, and then laughed. Parnasse scrunched up his face. “It’s… I mean I get if you don’t want to. Just a thought.”

“Oh no,” said Jehan, fighting to stop their laughter and laying a hand on his arm. “No no no, that’s not what I meant at  _ all  _ it’s just…” They let out a breath, still grinning at something amusing Montparnasse wasn’t grasping. “Well, when I asked you to pair with me for  _ this, _ ” they said, gesturing between them, “I… I meant it as a date.” Now it was Parnasse’s turn to blink stupidly at them. Jehan giggled again and squeezed his arm. “Oh, you’re too cute, oh my god. I’m sorry, I should have specified.”

“Right,” said Parnasse, cringing at his own stupidity. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t want to presume--”

“You didn’t,” Jehan said, cutting him off, and sliding their hand down his arm to take his own hand. “And I would  _ love  _ to go out with you sometime. Again. Now  _ that’s _ an interesting first date story,” they teased, intertwining their fingers with Parnasse’s.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the grin which crept its way onto his face. “Oh shut up,” he said, and tugged lightly on Jehan’s hand as they laughed, continuing towards the bus stop in the dark after what was, with confidence, although Montparnasse had no experience with dating so far, the best first date ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating may increase as time goes on  
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> 
> Please leave any/all comments below! I always love to hear readers' thoughts! 
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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which most people are happy And things are good

The fundraiser being the huge success that it was, raising about 1000 euros, Courfeyrac and Feuilly decided that it warranted celebration of some kind. Something relaxing, and something that wouldn't be taking place that night, but the following day. 

Enjolras and Combeferre arrived early at Courfeyrac’s house, as always. It felt like a while since the three of them had spent time together, just the three of them, and Enjolras certainly didn't like to think that their friendship might be affected by it. When Enjolras knocked on the door, it was opened just moments later by a giddy Courfeyrac, Combeferre behind him, hand on his waist. 

“Enjy! Hi!” 

Wincing at the nickname, Enjolras stepped inside. “Don't call me that. It's  _ awful _ .” He hung up his coat and behind him, Courfeyrac giggled, followed by a smacking sound. Enjolras turned his head to see his friends standing side by side looking incredibly guilty. “What's going on?” 

“Nothing,” said Courfeyrac awfully quickly. “Come on, let's go chill. We've got snacks!” 

Playing Parks and Rec in the background, the three of them draped themselves over lounge furniture as was customary after every event they planned. A restriction had been placed on Enjolras that he had to wait three full days before even thinking about starting a new project, which had lead to this pleasant way to pass the day. Courfeyrac got up then, and took it upon himself to lie face down over Combeferre, dropping his weight onto him. Enjolras looked on in amusement while Combeferre groaned. 

“Really Courf? You couldn't just lie  _ next  _ to me? Like an ordinary person?” 

Giggling, Courf lifted his head to lie his chin on Combeferre’s chest, making eye contact at an awkward angle. “But would you like me as much if I were ordinary?” 

Combeferre rolled his eyes and looped his arms around Courfeyrac’s waist, holding him tight. “I guess not.” Courfeyrac's actions had been a little odd, but relatively normal considering his tactile nature, Enjolras noted, but Combeferre? Sure, Combeferre was a hug person, but usually in a way that was more obviously platonic than  _ this _ . This was not just Combeferre being a buddy. 

“Is this your way of trying to tell me you're dating?” Enjolras asked, out of the blue. Both faces turned to him, Courfeyrac delighted, Combeferre horrified. 

“Seriously Enj? You couldn't have just waited?” cried Combeferre while Courfeyrac cheered rolling over Combeferre, kicking his legs in the air. 

“What?” 

“Ferre owes me ten,” Courfeyrac laughed. Combeferre glared at him for a few seconds before giving up. 

“Oh shush, you,” he said, rolling on top of Courfeyrac and capturing his mouth in a deep kiss which definitely shut him up. Pleased as he was to see his friends happy, Enjolras realised this meant he was going to be third-wheeling rather a lot now, and with a twinge of jealousy and a whole lot of discomfort, he cleared his throat. 

Both boys looked up, faces sheepish. “Shit, sorry,” Courfeyrac said, seeming it. “That's not cool. I get you.” 

“Yeah, we'll shut up,” Combeferre agreed.

“I mean,” Courf began, “we'll stop being that gross couple. That doesn't mean I'm not going to talk. It's not like we haven't all seen the show before.” The three of them laughed at the truth in that, but they did turn back to the TV in silence for a few minutes. 

“So R was helpful yesterday,” said Courfeyrac after some silence while Leslie Knope looked horrified on the screen. 

“Mhm,” Enjolras hummed vaguely, only to realise both his friends were looking at him and not at the action taking place on the television. “What?” he asked looking from Courfeyrac to Combeferre and back. 

“I think we need to talk about this again,” said Combeferre. 

Groaning, Enjolras turned his head into the tawny plush of the sofa, pressing his face into it, hoping the piece of furniture could just swallow him up. “Why now? This day is supposed to help me  _ relax _ . This isn't relaxing.” 

“Well why are you so hesitant to talk about it then?” Combeferre asked, his voice acquiring a sharp edge. Courfeyrac gave him a look and he seemed to relax a bit. 

“Thing is,” said Courfeyrac, “that if you're going to do this without… hm. If you don't want Grantaire to be upset, then it's kinder to tell him you don't want to be together sooner rather than later. Assuming you don't want to be with him. Because you only really showed negative feelings towards him before… all this.” 

“I don't want to be with him like that,” Enjolras confirmed immediately, panicking for a reason our of his understanding. He noticed Combeferre chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on the light wood of the floor. “But I don't want to hurt him either. And I think he might really like me? I don't know. That sounds so vain, but it can't end well either way.” 

“You're kidding, right?” said Combeferre, eyebrows pulled together, looking like he was in physical pain. “You  _ think  _ he might really like you?” 

Courfeyrac waved a hand to cut him off. “Shh, Ferre. Look, Enj. You've got to understand that yes, he'll be upset either way, but the longer he goes thinking that you really like him too, the worse it will be for him when he finds out the truth.” 

“And he will,” Combeferre put in. “Find out the truth, that is. These things have a habit of coming out eventually.” 

Knowing Combeferre, he was probably right. And Enjolras firmly intended on telling Grantaire. There was admittedly a small, selfish part of him that enjoyed it, that liked having Grantaire like him. It felt good. But while he sat there, other friends arriving over the next hour, watching Parks and Rec, listening to them talking, and chipping in from time to time, he fully intended on telling Grantaire that they were better off as friends. When Grantaire himself arrived, Enjolras kept that firm decision in his mind, though he maybe faltered for a second. When Grantaire asked if he wanted to come over afterwards, Enjolras felt himself forget it for a moment, his chest feeling strangely light, but recovered quickly. He accepted Grantaire’s invitation graciously, seeing it as the perfect opportunity to tell Grantaire that friendship was the correct course of action for their relationship. Yes, that's what he'd tell him. 

Grantaire sat next Enjolras most of the day while Season 3 rolled, asking first if it was okay by him, recognising any boundaries or reservations he might have. When Enjolras let him sit there, Grantaire’s grin was so worth it. Enjolras ignored his friends’ looks and after a minute or two of awkwardness, Enjolras relaxed into Grantaire’s side, leaning his weight into the solid warmth. He was very conscious of Grantaire’s arm moving to hook around his waist, and after an hour, Enjolras found himself fully resting on Grantaire’s chest. He looked up at Grantaire to find him smiling. 

“What?” Enjolras asked. He leant back a bit to get a better view of that smile.

“Nothing,” said Grantaire, still smiling down at him. “Guess I’m just happy.” Conflicting feelings rose into the back of Enjolras’ mind-- a jolt of guilt, and a tingly swelling feeling filled him all at once. 

Enjolras smiled back, a little forced, and leant even deeper into Grantaire in an attempt to ignore the fact that he was a terrible human being. Grantaire smelled good. Like deodorant and wood and slightly of cigarettes, but mostly like something that was indefinably Grantaire. 

 

Around the time other people started to leave (first Feuilly, then Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta) it must have been late afternoon, Grantaire suggested that they head off as well, which Enjolras immediately agreed to. 

Grantaire moved out from under Enjolras and took his hand when they both got up. His hands were large and warm. Long fingered, yet strong. The feeling of their intertwined fingers was… certainly distracting. 

“You two heading out?” asked Jehan, looking up from where they were sitting on another sofa, legs draped over Bahorel’s lap, braiding strands of their hair. 

“Yup,” Grantaire confirmed. “We're gonna go back to mine.” Enjolras felt him squeeze his hand, that tingling sensation returning, and he nodded. 

All four of their remaining friends looked at Enjolras, each look a slightly different variation of ‘fix it’. In return, he gave what he hoped was a reassuring gaze, a passive smile on his lips. Yes, he would fix this. He would tell Grantaire. Everyone could be at peace with the group dynamic again in just a very short time. It would be fine. Totally fine. 

 

It turned out it would not be totally fine. Well, it started out fine, and everything was really nice. They drove back to Grantaire’s place in his car, discussing which Parks and Rec season was the best, something which they simply couldn't agree on, although the conversation had already started back at Courfeyrac’s. 

It turned out that Grantaire’s parents were  _ rolling _ . Enjolras figured that made sense though-- how many 18 year olds could actually afford their own cars, after all? His house was large, white, in a neighbourhood surrounded by many like it, and yet inside it was very very empty. There were no cultural items, which surprised Enjolras, seeing as Grantaire came from such a diverse background. Most walls were bare, but some broke up the blank space with a simple, boring sort of postmodern painting. 

“Wow,” said Enjolras after about a minute inside the house. “It’s um…” 

“Barren? Yup,” laughed Grantaire humourlessly. “One good thing is that the ‘rents are never here. Place all to myself eighty percent of the time.” 

Enjolras frowned at that. Surely Grantaire wasn't happy about such cheerlessness. “So…” Enjolras began in an effort to change the topic. “What did you want to do?” He'd save the break for later. When he was about to leave. He didn't want to upset Grantaire now. Not yet. 

“Glad you asked,” said Grantaire, pointing a finger at him and walking towards him, grinning in earnest now. “We are going to make dinner, and then we're going to eat and play good music and talk and just… have a nice time.” Grantaire only stopped once their faces were less than a foot apart making Enjolras swallow. “How does that sound?” 

Clearing his throat, Enjolras averted his eyes. “That would sound great, but I can't cook.” 

“No worries. I can. And we'll keep it easy,” Grantaire assured. “Look at that, the one thing you can't do, huh?” He leaned slightly forward then so that their noses were almost touching, and Enjolras’ breath audibly hitched. He blushed. Biting his lip and grinning in a self-satisfied manner, Grantaire stuck his hands in his pockets and stepped backwards before turning towards the kitchen, leaving Enjolras mildly stunned. 

Making dinner was quite the event for Enjolras, because he really was a terrible cook. There were so many things to keep track of and he always felt stressed from having to go so fast, but Grantaire seemed totally at ease in the kitchen, seeming to be throwing ingredients in at random. Thanks to Grantaire, the end result was absolutely delicious, and in all honesty, Enjolras had mostly just (very slowly) chopped up a few kinds of vegetables and measured out a few different things. He was shocked to find that Grantaire didn’t once mock him about his abysmal knife skills, which made the simple tasks he was set a lot more pleasant. Once the curry was finished, Grantaire insisted that they leave the dishes in the sink, and they went to eat on the sofa. 

“Are you sure it’s okay? The sofa’s white…”

Grantaire waved Enjolras off. “It’s leather! Everything wipes off,” he insisted. “And even if it doesn't, it’s good for my parents to learn to deal with a mess. The only one they ever need worry about is me, but me they can generally just ignore.” 

It made Enjolras very uncomfortable to hear Grantaire speaking that way about himself, and he meant to tell him so, but Grantaire turned on music that played over speakers all around the room, and he didn’t get a word in. Instead, Enjolras matched Grantaire’s crossed-legged position on the sofa, stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork and stuck it in his mouth. It was heavenly, and he groaned at the taste. Grantaire’s head whipped up, blinking at Enjolras, cheeks darkened. 

“Do you always do that when you like something?” he asked, turning the classic-rock playing over the speakers down. 

“Thi is  _ so  _ good,” Enjolras told him, unabashed at the noise he’d made. 

Grantaire smiled warmly at him. “Hey, you helped! Guess you’re not so awful at cooking after all, huh?” 

“Oh please,” said Enjolras, eyes rolling, “I didn’t even do anything. You’re  _ incredible.  _ I need you to make this for me weekly.” He scooped up another forkful, reluctant to ever stop eating. 

“If you so wish,” Grantaire replied, keeping his eyes on Enjolras for several second before going back to eating. Enjolras felt his stomach… vibrate? What? Something like that. He felt himself go red, and continued eating at what was probably a more frantic pace than was healthy. 

After finishing off the delicious curry, Enjolras reluctant to stop himself licking the plate clean, Grantaire took Enjolras’ plate to the kitchen. While he was gone, Enjolras braced himself to say what he’d originally come here to say, finding that he really  _ really  _ didn’t want to. But he’d promised that he’d tell Grantaire that it- that  _ this _ , whatever this was, wasn’t meant to be. And he would. He  _ had  _ to. 

Enjolras was sitting tall and stiff on the white sofa when Grantaire returned, looking sort of nervous himself. “I have to tell you something,” said Enjolras before Grantaire could open his mouth. Grantaire sighed when he took a seat next to him, quite close-- half turned towards each other, their knees were touching. 

“Can I go first? Only… I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve if I don’t say everything right now.” Grantaire’s eyes were almost shut and Enjolras drew in a breath. He knew the exact same thing went for him and his situation, but he couldn’t help but nod slowly and deliberately. Grantaire took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was to come. “Okay. I don’t want to freak you out or anything, in case you didn’t know this already, but I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.” Enjolras’ eyes widened, and Grantaire chuckled. “I thought as much.” 

“How long?”

“Over two years,” said Grantaire. “I feel it’s only fair that I tell you no rather than later.” Again, guilt shot through Enjolras, but he just nodded. “And yeah, that’s… a long time. And I really don’t want you to be… put off by that. But I totally get if you are. And I would never expect you to want anything more with me anyway.” Reaching out, Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand and squeezed. They shared a look before Grantaire continued. “So that’s why I freaked out when you asked me out. I never would have expected or…  _ imagined  _ that would or could ever want to go out with me. And it would be stupid to thank you for how you feel, and I don’t exactly know where you stand but… I really like you, Enjolras, and I’m just kind of overwhelmed by the fact that you wanted to go out with me. That you actually… like me.” 

Throughout this little speech, Enjolras’ eyes had been scanning Grantaire’s face, only to find nothing but sincerity, which was so far from what usually lay there. And everything Grantaire had said had touched him to the core, had made him feel all fuzzy and lovely and nervous and excited. And without knowing exactly why yet, he leaned towards Grantaire, hesitant, but wanting more than anything to close that space between them. When Enjolras froze, Grantaire’s eyes flicked down to his lips before he licked his own. Enjolras could practically hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest, in his ears, and every thought of telling Grantaire that this thing between the should end had gone clean out of his mind. 

Enjolras watched as the corners of Grantaire’s lips tugged upwards before he closed the gap between them and everything was Grantaire. The sound of Pearl Jam playing in the background was muted and wow, so this was a real kiss. It wasn’t that Enjolras hadn’t kissed anyone before (Courfeyrac was the king of platonic smooches after all) but this was truly something else. His breathing was rapid, and he was relieved when Grantaire’s steady hands found the back of his neck and his waist. An involuntary moan made its way out of Enjolras mouth at that additional intimacy and he clutched at the front of Grantaire’s shirt. 

It was hard to keep one’s mouth closed when kissing someone else, but when he felt Grantaire separate himself slightly and smile against his lips, Enjolras made a desperate sound and tried to pull himself impossibly closer to Grantaire. And everything that was happening felt amazing and right, and also like he just wanted more and  _ more _ . Enjolras  _ wanted  _ to swing his leg over Grantaire and straddle him and curl their tongues together, but it wasn’t the right time, and he pulled back, blinking stupidly and grinning at Grantaire, who was doing the exact same back. They both giggled and it felt ridiculous but it felt so good.

“I really like you, R,” said Enjolras looking deep into the wide green of Grantaire’s eyes. And he laughed again because wow, that was true. He did. He really liked him. Grantaire looked helpless for a moment and then he surged forwards again, sealing their mouths back together with needy sound. And Enjolras was so ready for it, immediately threading his hands into Grantaire’s mess of dark curls and he knew that he’d never be able to tell Grantaire that they shouldn’t be together. Because that would just be a blatant lie. And Enjolras just… allowed himself to get utterly lost on everything that was Grantaire for a while longer-- his hands, his hair, his broad shoulders, soft shirt, and chest muscles. His strength, and feeling, and restrained passion, and Enjolras did not hold back. 

 

When he returned from Grantaire’s house, Enjolras immediately called Combeferre before he even got up to his room ignoring Cosette and Valjean who both made half an attempt to talk to him. 

“What's up, dude?” asked Combeferre, picking up after just three rings. 

“I have a crush on Grantaire,” Enjolras blurted before he had completely worked out how to phrase it. Over the phone he heard Courfeyrac give a squeal in the background. 

Combeferre breathed deeply. “Are you sure? You're sure you don't just like being liked?” 

Throwing himself on his bed, Enjolras grinned up at the ceiling, remembering the kisses and conversations they’d shared such a short time beforehand. “I'm sure,” he said, the blinked and shook himself. “So what do I  _ do _ ?” he asked, frantic. “I don’t know how to function with  _ feelings _ ! I don’t know how to like someone like that and what if I--”

“Enj, calm down,” Combeferre said, cutting him off. “First off, you’re going to be fine. There’s a reason everyone was staring daggers at you earlier today.” Manic whispering could be heard then and static as the phone was being tugged at on the other side of the line. 

“To put it in a  _ nicer  _ way to how Ferre did, you guys looked really natural together, which makes us pleased and relieved to hear that you’ve had this change in heart,” Courfeyrac told Enjolras once he’d recovered the phone. “So are you guys, like, boyfriends now?” 

The idea of him and Grantaire being together like that made Enjolras incredibly flustered and he had to hide his head in his pillow for a second to stop himself making some sort of ridiculous noise. “No, not yet.”

“But you want to be, right?”

“I think so,” said Enjolras, and wow, he really wasn’t able to stop smiling. There was more muffled movement over the phone and then Combeferre was back on. 

“You are still going to tell him though, right?” he said, still serious. Combeferre was nothing if not protective of his friends, after all. “If you are going to do the whole… relationship thing, you should tell him about the whole situation, and explain everything. I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

Biting his lip, Enjolras looked down at his shifting feet pressed flat against the wall. “Why wouldn’t I tell him?” he asked to avoid saying anything more. 

“Because,” Combeferre sighed, “although you’re always on top of everything, you like to avoid things that will make people you care about unhappy.” Not knowing what to say to that, Enjolras stayed silent. 

There was fumbling over the line once more. “So? Can we text the others and tell them shit’s sorted?” Courf asked, excitement evident in his voice. 

Enjolras rolled over on his sheets and propped himself up on his elbow. “I guess. Saves me the trouble then.” 

“Okay! We’re gonna go do that then,” said Courfeyrac.

In the background Enjolras heard Combeferre saying “isn’t there something you’d  _ rather  _ be doing?” in a suggestive tone. Courfeyrac giggled and bade Enjolras farewell before hanging up. 

Enjolras shivered and made a disgusted sound. Those two were already sickening. Truly sickening. 

 

*

 

On Monday, Montparnasse had put even more effort into his appearance than he did on most days, which was already a lot. Monday, though, was special because he had a date with Jehan. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Cosette who probably deserved to know. She'd waited long enough to be able to ask out Marius, and he'd tell her tonight. Parnasse looked forward to seeing how the information that Cosette  _ was  _ now allowed to date would go down with Valjean. 

Montparnasse happened to share one class with Jehan, that class being Psychology (though he figured they had taken the class for very different reasons than he had), and on Mondays, it was their last class. That Monday, Jehan had, quite without warning, taken a seat next to Parnasse instead of at their usual spot nearer the front.

“Hi,” they said, giving him a warm smile. 

Parnasse gazed at them, puzzled for a few seconds. “Hello? Do you uh… sit here now?” 

Jehan’s face fell a little and Montparnasse immediately regretted his word choice. “Oh. I can move if you--”

“No! No, sorry I didn't mean to… sorry,” he said in an attempt to amend the done damage. Fortunately, Jehan perked up again. 

“Well in that case, yes, I suppose I do sit here now. Otherwise I'll never see you enough. Not that I don't find a way to talk to you even when I'm across the room,” they said, a hint of mischief colouring their voice. It was true. Even when Jehan sat right up at the front of the classroom as they normally did, they always seemed to manage to say a word or two to Parnasse at some point every class, without fail. 

It was a good class, though the teacher Mr. Tanis was dull as ever, but Jehan and Montparnasse passed the class whispering jokes about various psychologists to one another and writing notes mocking the reflexivity of particular studies. Once class was over, they left the room together, not much smarter, but both smiling. 

Parnasse had done his best to be assertive and had actually planned something for the pair of them to do together, skipping the class after lunch in order to give himself enough time to set up. Not that he'd tell Jehan that. He wasn't sure how they felt about the whole disobedience thing, but they seemed to like him, so surely they couldn't frown that much on rulebreaking… 

Together, they left the school, Montparnasse listening attentively as Jehan prattled on about the serendipity of Lewis Carroll's genius. They walked like that for a good few minutes until Jehan sighed and shot Parnasse a disarming smile. 

“Okay I give up,” they said. “Where are we going?” Parnasse had to admit that it was hard to say no to that smile, but he was determined to keep this a surprise. 

“As if I'd tell you,” he laughed as a response. “It’s a surprise. Though… don't get your hopes up. It's not as…  _ creative  _ as something you would come up with, I'm sure.” 

Jehan slapped him playfully on the shoulder in mock-discipline. “I’m sure it's fantastic. Besides, our  _ first  _ date was pretty far from normal of you ask me,” they said and Montparnasse felt his heart skip a beat. “Also, because I'm going to deny it from now on, I'll tell you once: I love surprises. Thanks for planning this.” They took his hand and squeezed gently and oh  _ boy _ did feelings attack Parnasse again. 

 

Montparnasse had set up a picnic and laptop in a secluded, sheltered part of a field next to a forest where no one tended to go, so that together they'd be able to watch a movie in the organic outdoors with the assistance of a speaker for sound quality. An added bonus was that the forest was rumoured to be haunted, which absolutely delighted Jehan when Montparnasse told them this. Upon spotting the blanket, they squealed and got ever so excited. 

“This is amazing! Oh my goodness, you did this for me?” 

Parnasse rolled his eyes but blushed nonetheless. “Well for  _ us  _ really, but whatever, I guess.” Jehan gave him a blinding smile and went up on their tiptoes to kiss Parnasse on the cheek making his blush increase tenfold. 

“So, what are we watching?” they asked, realising what Montparnasse had set up for their evening together. “Anything I know?” They sat themselves crosslegged on the blanket.

Parnasse sat down next to them and opened the laptop. “I hope not, or this'll be a boring evening,” he said, pulling up the pirated file. 

Jehan scoffed, half laughing. “What, we couldn't have fun if we were doing something familiar?” 

“I guess we could, but it makes watching your reactions less interesting,” Parnasse replied. “This is  _ Stanford Prison Experiment _ . Not exactly romantic, but it's good and I figured… well, I didn't think you'd have seen it. It's intense. I have other things though if you'd rather something softer--”

“Parnasse?” Jehan said, cutting him off. He blinked, making eye contact with a gentle face. “This sounds great. Thank you. So… based off Zimbardo ‘72 then?” 

Montparnasse relaxed, mind going back to their psych class last month where Zimbardo and Milgram had been the leading source of discussion. “Yeah. I mean I know we talked about it, but it's really interesting to actually see it. A lot of this is taken directly from the footage and staged accordingly.” 

Jehan shuffled closer to Parnasse and smiled at him. “Well then. Shall we?” 

 

Montparnasse did not pay much attention to the movie, intense as it was, since he had already seen it. Though their location and the enhanced sound of the speakers brought even more to the film, he watched the changes on Jehan’s expression over the course of the film more than his eyes were on the screen. The visible hitches on their breath, the concern on their brow, the scrunching of their fingers in the blanket; each movement they made was perfectly suited to the action onscreen, and helped Parnasse like them that little bit more. When Ezra Miller’s character went crazy, Jehan gripped Parnasse’s wrist, and he wiggled it free to intertwine their fingers with his own. Jehan gave him a brief appreciative look before turning back to the film. 

Once the film ended, Jehan’s eyes were tinged pink because although they hadn't cried, Parnasse could tell how horrified they had been at the events onscreen. They breathed once heavily in and out before turning to Montparnasse as the credits continued to roll. 

“Normally if someone made me feel this awful on a date, it would be labelled an awful date,” they said and Parnasse chewed the inside of his lip, awaiting judgement, though he noticed they still hadn't let go of his hand. “But this made me  _ feel  _ and… and you don't do things by halves, do you?” Montparnasse frowned. That wasn't true at all. He was constantly trying to tone down aspects of himself, only enhancing certain parts. Understanding this look, Jehan elaborated. “Not when it comes to dates anyway. I…  _ loved  _ that film. You pay attention. Thank you. For not just… doing something generically pleasant.” 

Montparnasse, not wanting to show how much this meant to him, just shrugged and gave Jehan half a grin. “Pleasant isn't really my style.”

Jehan laughed, nose crinkling. “Oh, but it is. Even if you or other people don't think so.” They broke off, smile fading but still clearly there, their rich brown eyes growing deeper and more perceptive as they gazed into Montparnasse’s own. “Could I maybe… kiss you?” Parnasse felt his face freeze, surprised at their intention and boldness. Hurriedly, they amended: “It's totally fine if not, I wouldn't want to assume, but if you  _ did  _ want me to, then I'd be much obliged.” 

If he hadn't been in such a state of shock, Montparnasse would have laughed because wow, they spoke like a writer, but as it was, he just felt his lips twitch upwards involuntarily and he nodded what looked more like a jerk of the head. Jehan’s soft smile returned as they leaned cautiously towards him, one hand reaching up to cup his jaw, and Parnasse closed the gap, hands finding Jehan’s waist, and lips meeting with a quiet inhale from both parties. 

It felt to Montparnasse like sparks of sun magic coursing through his body- warm and exciting and intense and soothing and slightly messy and wonderful. Jehan’s lips were insistent against his own, taking control of the situation in a way Parnasse knew he wasn't capable of in that moment, though he followed in kind, his enjoyment of the situation increasing with each passing moment. Hands worked their way into Parnasse’s hair, tugging slightly. He tightened his grip on Jehan’s waist and decided to boldly slip his tongue between their full lips, running it along their own. 

At the sensation, Jehan let out a desperate moan (which should not have affected Montparnasse as much as it did) and swung their leg over both Parnasse’s own, straddling him. Parnasse pulled them in at the waist as they bore down, kissing him with such fervour that the intensity was almost unbearable. Their teeth clacked and they couldnt help but draw back, what with how much they'd both begun to laugh. Montparnasse was laughing with a beautiful, adorable person in his lap, with hardly a care in the world. A few days ago it would have seemed so unlikely. 

“Sorry,” Jehan giggled, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled with joy. “Got a little ahead of myself there.” 

Parnasse shook his head, thumbs rubbing circles into Jehan’s ribs again. “Don't apologise for that,” he said, smile still overtaking his face. 

“I feel sort of guilty,” they said, though still smiling, “about doing that right after the movie we just watched.”

“You don't look it,” Parnasse countered. 

Shrugging, Jehan went on. “Well, guess I was just feeling a lot.” Their fingers grazed Parnasse’s ears as they bent down to kiss him again. 

 

When Montparnasse arrived home, he stuck his head in the door of Cosette’s soothing pastel coloured room. It was interesting really, the differences that existed between the aesthetics of the three siblings rooms, but very fitting. 

Cosette spun around in the desk chair she was sitting at, face inquisitive, blonde waves streaming at the motion. 

“You get a date with your boy,” he said simply before stepping back out and shutting the door. He went to his room, not missing the sound of stumbling and the door re-opening behind him. 

“Parnasse!” Cosette said a little too loudly. Only once he had taken a seat on his bed did Montparnasse face her. 

“You should be quieter. Papa doesn't appreciate shouting.” Cosette huffed and gave him an indignant look. Parnasse shrugged at her. “Hey, what more do you want from me? You can go on your date now.” He leaned back against his pillows, crossing one leg over the other. 

Moving to sit cross legged at the end of his bed, Cosette rolled her eyes. “Okay, that's  _ great  _ and all and thank you, but… what happened? Who are you dating?” 

“Technically I'm not…  _ dating  _ anyone, per se. I just went on a date with someone. There's a difference.” 

Exasperated at this point, Cosette snapped good naturedly at him. “Oh just stop beating around the bush and tell me who it is!” A pause. “It's not one of your  _ friends  _ is it?” she asked with caution. Montparnasse had the grace to shake his head. He opened his mouth to speak but… why was this so difficult? He closed it. Cosette tried again. “Is it one of  _ Enj’s  _ friends?” Parnasse opened his mouth to speak and felt his face heat up even as he failed to say anything. 

Cosette squealed. “Now I just have to figure out  _ who, _ ” she said. 

“It's Jehan Prouvaire,” Parnasse blurted before she could embarrass him further by assuming otherwise. 

Cooing, Cosette grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Though he found it somewhat patronizing and humiliating, Parnasse simply rolled his eyes and allowed her this small pleasure. 

 

It was dinnertime when the subject was breached once again. 

“So Papa,” Coesette began as she twirled spaghetti around her fork. 

Valjean raised an eyebrow at her. “What is it you want this time, Cosette?” 

She scoffed, feigning an offended look. “I don't want anything! I'm simply informing you that I'll be going on a date with a boy I know sometime over the next week.” To make sure she could postpone speaking, she shoved a large forkful of spaghetti in her mouth.

Enjolras looked at Parnasse curiously whilst looking particularly satisfied. Valjean was looking between his son's in disbelief. 

“You already asked him out?” said Parnasse. 

Cosette shrugged, grinning. “No, but I will.”

“Hold it there for a second, all of you,” Valjean said, holding up a hand, and closing his eyes in a way that showed just how hard he was thinking. All three siblings stopped and looked at their father. “Do you mean to tell me that you met the requirement I placed upon you to make it impossible for Cosette to date while you boys are still in school?” 

“Yes Papa,” Cosette said reasonably. 

Valjean squinted first at Enjolras and then at Montparnasse. “Who are the two of you seeing then? When did this happen?” 

“I went out with… Grantaire,” Enjolras said rather fast, his cheeks pink. 

“Is that the friend who boxes?” asked Valjean, becoming more casual. 

Enjolras nodded, then shrugged. “I mean, there's two of them. He's the shorter one. With the curly hair?” 

Nodding in recognition, Valjean went on. “Ah yes. I've seen him at the gym several times. Bright kid. Funny.” He turned to Montparnasse, peering down at him while Parnasse kept his eyes averted at all costs, chewing the inside of his cheek. “And you?” 

Montparnasse murmured something along the lines of ‘none of your business’. “If you don't mind,” Valjean said, raising his voice, though he sounded amused, “I think it is rather my business. I want to know who my son is seeing, thank you very much.” 

“Jehan Prouvaire,” Parnasse sighed, knowing it was hopeless to argue.

“Jehan?” said Valjean, looking at Enjolras. “Enjolras’ friend Jehan? The small one with the funny pronouns?” 

At this, Parnasse, set his fork on the plate with a clatter and met Valjean’s eyes. “They  _ don't  _ have ‘funny pronouns’. Jesus, your  _ son  _ is  _ trans  _ and yet you don't get that non-binary people  _ exist _ ?” Frustration prickled under his skin as he glared at Valjean. 

“Just because you don't understand someone's identity doesn't mean you can't respect it,” Enjolras chipped in, spitting. 

Valjean blinked at the two of them. “My apologies,” he said, taken aback. “Jehan is a very nice… kid.” 

“Too right, they are,” hissed Enjolras, and Parnasse gave a defiant nod. 

“Well,” said Cosette, easing the tension between the others. “Now that you've been educated and put in your place in regard to non-binary people, you're alright with me going on this date then?” 

Valjean turned his attention back to Cosette and frowned. “I suppose I can't go back on my word, can I? You three don't know it, but somehow you always end up on each other’s sides.” 

The siblings exchanged looks, rare satisfied smiles being shared between them. 

 

*

 

The thing about Montparnasse and his friends was that it was all about perception. Other students and people who they knew out and around town tended to fear them, just a little, and to be honest, he got it. 

Babet was smart as anything, and always seemed to know things about people that they barely knew about themselves. Claquesous was quiet and so mysterious, always sneaking around, and had no qualms about showing off his switchblade skills about people he didn't trust. Gueulemer, though he didn't always come across as the brightest, was large, buff and had a fierce look to him when he tried. Brujon was deft, and a kleptomaniac who was never caught. Eponine was fierce and sharp in every meaning of the words. Montparnasse himself? Well, he took great pleasure in destroying people with words, looked dangerously good, and had a feared fascination with sharp objects and various other weaponry. Several of them were also secondary drug dealers, adding to their sketchy nature. 

On the other hand though, they were a relatively close, caring group, each being soft enough when just around one another. Gueulemer was probably the biggest teddybear, Brujon the biggest dork, and Babet the most thoughtful guy Montparnasse had ever met. Claquesous and Eponine were still rather terrifying in their own ways, but that didn't make them any less caring or compassionate. However, as long as they maintained the image they.currently had around outsiders, they would maintain their reputation as scary, dangerous, and not to be crossed. The fact that all of them came from some kind of rough background didn't hurt the image, either. Their image was important to each of them, though a different reason lay behind each person's thoughts. 

 

Montparnasse had left his friends at the train station earlier, where Eponine had been in a particularly foul mood, smoking too many cigarettes too quickly, and spitting mean words at whoever tried to make a joke. No one had asked about it, knowing how Eponine felt about discussing feelings. All of them tended to steer clear of discussing the shittier aspects of their lives, knowing that each person had things they didn't want to and refused to share. Still, Parnasse hoped Eponine was alright, and couldn't help but wonder what had been going on with her. With a lot of luck, it wouldn't involve her family, which so often had issues. 

 

It wasn't long after Parnasse got home that he heard the front door slam followed by stomping feet up the stairs. 

“‘Sette? Is that you?” he called from his spot on his bed. He heard a door open and not shut and some talking between Cosette and Enjolras. Puzzled, Montparnasse waited, straining and failing to hear what they were saying, but after about a minute, his own door opened to reveal both his siblings. 

He took in their images quickly, Enjolras looking confused, concerned, and annoyed all at once. Cosette looked angry, her eyes slightly red. Parnasse stood immediately. “What happened?” he asked, striding forwards and putting one hand on Cosette’s shoulder, the other brushing a piece of her blonde curls behind her ear. “Are you okay?” 

She nodded, forcing half a smile and took his hand from her shoulder. “I'm alright I just-” she took a deep breath and bit her lip. “I just need you both right now.” 

Montparnasse looked over Cosette’s shoulder at Enjolras who raised an eyebrow at him. He looked back at his sister. “ _ Both  _ of us? Can't you just--” 

“Oh for crying out loud,” Cosette snapped. “Can't you two put aside your differences now when  _ I'm  _ the one who needs help?” Parnasse glanced over at Enjolras once more, but he nodded and followed the two of them to Cosette’s pastel enchantment of a room. 

Once Cosette was sat on her lilac sheets, her brothers took seats on either side of her. Each brother took one of her hands in their own, and Montparnasse noted as Cosette sighed that she was  _ trying  _ to seem far sadder than she actually was. Her lip did not tremble. 

“I asked out Marius,” she said mournfully, though without even a slight tremor to her voice. 

The boys left a pause. “What happened?” Enjolras asked, an edge of anger to his voice. “If he hurt you, I--”

“He didn't hurt me,” Cosette was quick to clarofy. “He rejected me. He didn't even want to go out with me in the first place.” 

Montparnasse and Enjolras shared a look above their sister’s head, Parnasse much more knowing than Enjolras, it seemed. 

“Do you know why he rejected you? He was nervous when I spoke to him about you,” Enjolras said, brow furrowed in confusion. 

Cosette hitched her shoulders up in a shrug. “Well yes! I mean, it means he doesn't like me, of course. He's asexual and demiromantic, he told me. And he didn't like me like that. Be he also had the  _ audacity  _ to say that I don't like  _ him  _ like that, and that I should think about it.” 

“Well what's that supposed to mean?” Enjolras spat. “I get that he doesn't like you, sure, but to invalidate your feelings?” 

“Right?” 

“There's nothing wrong with being polyamorous, Cosette, and don't let him tell you otherwise,” Enjolras went on, squeezing Cosette’s hand, and her face turned to one of utter bewilderment. 

“ _ What?! _ ” she exclaimed, squinting at her fair haired brother. Montparnasse cleared his throat, a small smirk on his face. Cosette turned to him as if willing him to explain, while Enjolras looked on confused as to what he'd said wrong. 

“I think Enjolras assumed you knew something you clearly don't and got ahead of himself, but let me help you break down your feelings for a moment?” While Cosette still looked confused, realisation dawned on Enjolras’ face. Of course.

“I'm not polyamorous,” Cosette tried to explain. “Not that there's anything wrong with that,” she hurried to amend. “I'm just not.” 

Parnasse bit his lip so he wouldn't chuckle. “I don't think you are, though of course you might be. But when did you start liking Marius?” 

Sitting back on her bed so that the springs freaked slightly, Cosette contemplated the answer to this question. “Well… soon after Eponine introduced him to me. And I started to feel jealous whenever he was around us, and I'd never be jealous of Eponine otherwise-- we're best friends! And I knew I had feelings for him.” 

At this, Enjolras and Montparnasse both couldn't help it. They both laughed. Cosette slapped them both on the thigh. “Why don't you two get along? You're both as insufferable as one another.” Parnasse and Enjolras shared a look over Cosette’s head, both doing their best to bite back smiles. She turned back to Parnasse. “So what exactly is your theory here?” 

“Was Eponine always around when Marius was? Or was it ever just you and Marius alone?” Parnasse asked, eyebrow raised at his sister. 

Again, Cosette thought for a few seconds. “All except once, Eponine was there. But that one time, I obviously didn't feel jealous or fluttery. I mean, Marius was the only one there. It was sort of just like comfortably hanging out with… with anyone else?” 

“And?” Enjolras prompted, nudging Cosette with his elbow. 

Cosette raised her eyebrows, her face becoming lighter as she started to understand. “Because he was right?” she said, her tone still questioning. “Because I don’t like him that way?” 

The twins nodded at her, encouraging. “Then… I was jealous because… because I thought he was stealing my best friend away?” 

Montparnasse honked like an incorrect jeopardy response, startling his siblings. “Wrong answer. Try again.” Cosette looked at him, not understanding. “Platonic jealousy? Was it really? Wasn't it what made you realise you were having  _ romantic _ feelings?” 

“Hold on a sec,” said Cosette tearing her hands out of her brothers’ grasp and signalling Parnasse to stop talking. He did, and gazed amused at her. “Now you're trying to tell me I  _ do  _ have romantic feelings for Marius?” 

Enjolras sighed. “I thought you  _ knew _ ,” he said the same time Montparnasse groaned “use your head, girl!” 

“Wait, you mean…  _ Eponine _ ? You think I have romantic feelings for Eponine?  _ I  _ have  _ romantic feelings  _ for  _ Eponine _ ?” The boys looked at her as Cosette’s face turned from one of bewilderment to one of fear over a few seconds. “I have romantic feelings for Eponine.” The boys waited. Cosette began to laugh. “I have romantic feelings for Eponine!” She stopped abruptly, looking from Parnasse to Enjolras and back, scared again. “I have romantic feelings for Eponine?” 

“There you go,” Enjolras said with a smile. 

Montparnasse nodded and nudged her. “Congrats.” 

Cosette stood up and tugged her brothers up by the arms, ushering them out of her room. “Excuse me, dear brothers, but I have romantic feelings for Eponine, and I need to sort through some stuff,” she vpiced, shoving them through the doorframe and shutting the door in their faces. 

Enjolras and Parnasse turned their faces towards one another. “Well finally,” Enjolras said. 

“I can't believe your first thought was that she was poly and liked them both,” Parnasse scoffed. 

“Oh come on, it was a valid assumption!” 

Parnasse chuckled as he walked back into his room, shrugging as he went. Well, that was one problem fewer to deal with. At the present, things were alright. Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd stay that way. However, Enjolras and Montparnasse were not lucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this fic has gained Montparnasse as its main character. Unexpected but I'm feeling it. 
> 
> Please leave any/all comments below! I always love to hear readers' thoughts!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things can't be amazing forever

It was a Wednesday meeting when it was confirmed that the ABC would indeed be hosting the prom that year, and they had approximately a month to plan it all. Enjolras was happy-- until then he'd be kept busy with preparations, schoolwork, and (of course) Grantaire. It was really a high point in life to date.

Being Enjolras, the first thing to tack down would be where all the proceeds would be going. As a group, several possibilities had been discussed, and by Feuilly’s suggestion, they'd settled on supporting queer refugees who'd been forced to flee their countries due to their sexualities or gender identities. The whole club had agreed that this was a worthy cause, and it was decided, but that had been confirmed at a meeting Grantaire hadn't attended. Since him and Enjolras and had become…  _ involved _ , Grantaire had not argued with Enjolras during meetings at all, and although a lot had been achieved in that time, it was also disconcerting. Nevertheless, today Enjolras simply had to push forwards and stay calm, hoping against hope that Grantaire would not put in his two cents of cynicism.

Standing before the circle of the ABC now, Enjolras felt confident. He had to. When Enjolras wasn't confident and passionate, no one could find it in themselves to be so. 

“First of all everyone, can we just appreciate that we won this and that  _ we  _ are going to be hosting the prom in a month?” he said with a grin, and his friends all cheered. At the back of the circle, Enjolras spotted Grantaire in his usual spot, forcing a small, insincere smile onto his lips. Enjolras smiled past the frown that tried to work its way into his face, paying attention to other members of the club instead. He tried not to dwell on R’s all-too-obvious bad mood and pressed on. 

“So this is all very exciting and we want as many people as possible to come, which may be difficult considering our cause this year. There are always those cishet assholes who don't want anyone queer around them, or to recognise the fact that we exist, so it's important to remember when we're planning this that to them, it's just their prom, and isn't  _ about  _ fundraising. But our cause is still important, so allow me to run over it with you all again.” Enjolras smiled at everyone, gaze pausing for a nervous moment on Grantaire. 

“As suggested by Feuilly,” said Enjolras, giving his dear friend an appraising look while a few others including Courfeyrac and Jehan cheered, and Bahorel slapped Feuilly on the shoulder. Enjolras gave a playful laugh before continuing. “We decided on our cause a few weeks ago now. It's to support refugees who had to flee their countries due to their queer identities.” 

From the back of the room, Grantaire scoffed. Unable to not reply, Enjolras shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before summoning his sweetest smile and looking Grantaire in the eye. 

“Yes, is there something you'd like to say, Grantaire?” he asked pleasantly. A few of those sat around in the circle   

Grantaire swung his feet up onto the chair next to him and leaned back in his own seat, arms crossed over his grey hoodie. One brow was raised and his tongue was pressing against his cheek in a way that Enjolras found infuriating and strangely arousing. Which just infuriated him further. 

“Oh no,” said Grantaire, green eyes narrowed and amused. “Great cause. Good job. That'll really do a lot for everyone.” 

Enjolras inhaled and felt his smile become more and more forced as he looked on at Grantaire. Around him, other club members were sighing and murmuring to one another. 

“I'll choose to ignore the sarcasm oozing from your voice,”said Enjolras, voice higher than usual. “So thank you.” Turning away from Grantaire and towards Combeferre and others, Enjolras cleared his throat. “Moving on--”

“The sarcasm was there for a reason you know, Angel,” Grantaire continued, cutting him off. He tilted his head and shifted his gaze from his fingers tapping on his desk up to Enjolras himself. Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek hard at the nickname. He'd thought this Grantaire was a thing of the past, and yet here they were. “It was meant to suggest that this ‘cause’ of yours,” Grantaire continued with finger quotes to add insult to injury, “is a terrible idea on every level.” 

Enjolras didn't know if he could take this. He didn't know if he should. He saw Joly try to chastise Grantaire and simply get waved aside  “I won't entertain your bleak outlook, Grantaire. If you have a reason to be saying this, please enlighten us and give a better alternative, why don't you?” 

Again, Grantaire scoffed. “Well, quite frankly anything would be better wouldn't it? Who are you actually trying to help here? These refugees? You won't raise much if you actually try to promote this cause through prom. You know how so many people at this damn school are, though they'd never say it with people like you around. And anyway, are these the people you need to be supporting right now?” 

Feeling anger building up inside him, Enjolras shook off Combeferre’s hand which had found his arm at some point and gripped the back of the chair before him, puffing his chest out. He could hear the hot blood pounding in his ears. “By insulting this idea, it isn't just me you're insulting. You hear? And these people need support. They are being forced out of their countries because of who they are and how they were born. It's a cruel situation, and if we can do something to help these people then why should we not?” 

On his feet now as well, Grantaire jerked his head to the side. “Cruel situation, huh? It's a cruel world! Besides, refugees are everywhere! Why these people? Why the queer ones? To make yourself feel a little better for helping people like you?” he asked in a tone so condescending, Enjolras flinched. 

“And what's wrong with that?” he spat back, voice shaking with emotion. “Trying to help people understand that queer issues are worldwide, and that they aren't just a Western problem. If we support this, other people might as well. It's a matter of helping form the bandwagon for people to join, and it's a matter of justice for all people. If you don't support that, then you don't support us.” 

Grantaire walked around the circle and got right up in Enjolras’ face. “In that case,” he said, voice low, “maybe I should just go. Besides, this? What you're doing? It's worthless.” Enjolras flinched back at the matter of fact tone. “This can't amount to anything.” With that, Grantaire turned and strode out of the room, hunched over a little more than usual, and leaving Enjolras standing, staring helplessly after him. Enjolras felt a lump in his throat and his eyes sting and heat up, salty water gathering in them. 

“Enj?” asked Combeferre and Enjolras blinked, tuning back into the rest of the world. “Are you okay?” 

“Right asshole sometimes,” he heard Feuilly say. Enjolras sniffed and shook his head, and though he was soon smothered in his friends’ arms and kind words and insults towards Grantaire, he didn't feel any better. He wanted to get out, to be away from them. He didn't want pity or sympathy. He wanted Grantaire, and not the Grantaire that said such hurtful, cynical things, but the Grantaire that believed in him and cared about him almost unconditionally. Enjolras was happy to leave school that day. 

 

*

 

Montparnasse did not loathe parties, contrary to what he'd have some people believe. They were a chance to spend time with his friends, maintain and build up their reputation and perception by others, to find prime locations for later parties, and to observe others doing stupid things. The noise was often a bit much, but other than that, Parnasse often found himself enjoying a night out at someone's place with varying numbers of people showing up, although he couldn't say the music was good very often. 

On this particular night, Parnasse had been particularly looking forward to getting out of the house in order to avoid his busy father, nosy sister, and exceedingly grumpy brother. However, shortly before he was about to leave the house, Parnasse had an unexpected experience in which Cosette had called him to her room. 

“I'm busy!” he'd shouted back. 

“No you're not,” Cosette yelled from her room. “Doing your eyebrows and deciding between two different dark shirts does not constitute as busy! I need you!” With a huff and a glare at his mirrored image, Parnasse put aside his angled brow brush and walked across to his sister’s room. 

“What?” he asked, swinging the door open, where he was surprised to see her wearing a yellow polkadot 50’s style dress and pulling her hair into a high ponytail. “Where are you going?” he asked hesitantly, looking her up and down. Cosette looked at him and grinned brightly. 

“How do I look?” 

“Great,” Parnasse answered, frowning but truthful. “But…” he gave her a questioning look.

“Oh,” she laughed, drawing a finger along the chain of her butterfly necklace. “I'm going to the party with you! You know, at Lane’s--”

“I know. And no, you aren't,” Parnasse cut her off, fixing her with a glare to wither most people. But of course, just his luck, Cosette wasn't most people. 

“Oh yes I am!” she went on, looking far too pleased. 

Running his tongue along his top teeth, Montparnasse shook his head. “The fuck is up with you anyway? I don't want my little sister hanging around me at a party! You've never wanted to come before. Besides, have you asked Valjean?” 

Cosette remained calm, merely shrugging. “I won't be around you, I'll be around Ponine. And no, I haven't asked yet.” 

“Good luck getting permission then!” Parnasse folded his arms as he walked it of the room behind Cosette who looked defiant, going to find Valjean in his study. When she knocked and entered the dark room, Parnasse stood in the door frame, leaning smugly against it. 

“Papa, can I go to a party tonight?” she asked, voice sweet as honey. 

Valjean did not look up from his desk as he continued to write. “Don't you think you should have asked earlier?” 

“I'm sorry, Papa but I didn't want to disturb you. But I would really love to go. It would be my first house party, and Parnasse has been going to them since grade ten too, so I thought maybe…”

“Is Parnasse going tonight as well?” Valjean asked, looking up now. 

Both father and daughter looked back at Montparnasse in the doorway. “Yes, I am,” he said coolly. 

“Have fun, you two,” Valjean said, turning back to his desk. “Be safe. And Montparnasse?” said Valjean, addressing his son now. “Take care of her, won't you?” 

Cosette skipped happily out of the study and a dumbstruck Montparnasse had slowly shut the door behind them. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said slowly. “That's all it took? For fuck’s sake. And he says he doesn't have favourites.” 

“I told you I was coming tonight,” Cosette said, incredibly smug. 

Parnasse sighed. “You know what? Fine. Fucking…  _ fine.  _ But you're helping me pick a shirt now, and you mind your own business once we're there, okay? If you hear anything about my friends or about me that you didn't know earlier, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?” 

Cosette nodded, biting her lip in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. In a burst of emotion, she flung her arms around Parnasse’s neck. “Thank you!” 

“Get off, I don't do feelings,” he responded and turned away once she let go to hide the small smile his lips couldn't help forming. 

 

Montparnasse left the house with Cosette in tow and met his friends at the station around 10 pm. 

“Hey Parnasse,” said Gueulemer coming up and slapping him on the shoulder. “And…” he paused, noticing Cosette. “Your sister.” He stepped around Parnasse to greet her. “Cosette, yes? To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“Oh shove off, G,” Parnasse said glaring Gueulemer away from a giggly Cosette. “My dad made me bring her.”

“Sette?” said Eponine, stepping forwards. “Nice of you to finally join me on a night out!” She pulled an arm around Cosette’s shoulders, and Cosette responded in turn by fitting an arm around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. Eponine looked slightly flustered as she bit her lip. Claquesous and Parnasse made eye contact as if to say ‘Those two’ and both knew exactly the tone the other would say it in. Montparnasse And Claquesous’ lips each twitched. 

 

Lane was not friends with Montparnasse or any of  _ his _ friends but fortunately, when it came to large house parties, that really didn't matter. The house was loud, the lights were dim yet colourful, and the music wasn't appalling. All in all, a promising night, if it weren't for Cosette tagging along, separating Eponine from the usual group. 

With the help of Claquesous and Gueulemer, Parnasse managed to clear the best sofa of scared, small school kids to make space for themselves. 

“That dreadful kid Alby Wottican or whatever keeps following me around,” said an irate Brujon after scaring away some scrawny boy with a patchy beard for the second time that evening. He sat down heavily on the worn leather sofa and passed a bottle of Beluga vodka, several mixers, and cups over to his friends. Perks of going to parties at rich people’s houses, Parnasse thought. The good alcohol, and lots of it. “He thinks I'm gonna sell him weed again after what happened last time…” 

“What happened last time?” asked Cosette, sticking her head up from her deep, close conversation with Eponine further along the couch. 

Montparnasse gritted his teeth as he turned to her. “Like I told you before we left, you don't need to know about what my friends and I do.”

“R!” Eponine exclaimed out of nowhere, standing and waving across the room, brow furrowed in concern. Out of the crowd came a stumbling figure in dark colours holding a bottle of some clear liquid that certainly wasn't water. 

Montparnasse followed suit and stood, as did everyone else on the sofa bar Cosette and Claquesous, both of whom still stiffened in their seats. “Grantaire,” Montparnasse said, reaching out and grabbing his arm once the boy got close enough. “What happened to you? Are you here alone?” 

The others were exclaiming and whispering around them. Grantaire shrugged and dropped himself onto a stool in front of the sofa. “ _ Not  _ a good week,” he groaned, rubbing his face and tugging his hand through matted curls. Apprehensively, they all settled back down on the couch and Gueulemer, who was about to speak, was hushed by Claquesous’ hand on his arm. So close to Grantaire, Montparnasse could smell the sour liquor and stale sweat on him. “I really fucked up,” he continued, not quite making eye contact. “Here I am, finally having  _ some  _ kind of feelings returned to me by a  _ god _ , and what do I do? I fuck it all up. Because that's what I do. And he probably doesn't even  _ want  _ me to fix it now.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Montparnasse saw Cosette’s shocked expression at the intensity of this sentiment. On his left, Claquesous spoke- just loud enough to be heard. “That boy might be many things, Grantaire, but he isn't a god. He's not nearly as great as you think he is. Mediocre as anyone else.” 

Parnasse fixed Claquesous with a glare and Cosette let out an indignant “hey that's my brother you're talking about!” 

Claquesous was unfazed. “Not only are you two biased as family, but even you can admit that he's a human with ordinary flaws, surely.” Across from them, Grantaire shook his head. Brujon had disappeared at this point, and in favour of leaving the comforting to Eponine, Gueulemer was pulling Claquesous off for a smoke outside. 

“You coming, Parnasse?” Gueulemer asked with a tone that suggested he wasn't wanted. Picking up on it, Montparnasse shook his head. 

Eponine was already holding Grantaire’s wrist in an effort of getting him to look up. “Hey, R, look up. Grantaire, look at me, dammit.” With what looked like the effort of lifting a donkey, Grantaire shifted his gaze upwards until his dulled green eyes met Eponine’s. “Sometimes we do dumb shit, okay? Sometimes we tell the people we love terrible things and we need to know when we're in the wrong, yeah?” 

“I  _ know  _ I'm the one who fucked up, Ponine. You don't need to tell me.” Grantaire rolled his eyes at his friend and lifted the glass bottle of strong smelling alcohol to his lips. 

Eponine reached up and snatched it away, setting it down a little too hard on the wooden floorboards. Before Grantaire could protest, she was off at him again. “You're not drinking your way out of problems. That's never going to go well. So, you know you were in the wrong. You have to make up for it! Show him you're sorry. Do something for him to show you were wrong and how much he means to you.” Montparnasse looked on at the three remaining teenagers. So Eponine was good at advice. She always had been. And Grantaire was bad at taking it- no surprise there.

Grantaire scoffed. “Sure, that'll go great,” he said sarcastically. “After what I said, he probably doesn't even want to know me anymore.”

At the exact same moment, Montparnasse and Cosette both gave a harsh laugh. They glanced at each other, biting back grins. “Trust us R, that's entirely untrue,” Parnasse told him, eyebrows raised before taking a drink from his cup. He knew Enjolras had only asked Grantaire out because of that bet, but it did legitimately seem as though he had feelings for the guy at this point. 

“Honestly,” Cosette said, picking up where we left off. “He's been  _ miserable  _ half this week, and I'll bet that's because you two haven't been talking. Grantaire, he  _ wants  _ to be with you.” 

It was as if he had never even considered that as an option, the way Grantaire’s entire face lit up as Cosette spoke. In the matter of mere seconds, he had gone from depressed to hopeful, though he looked a little scared. “You're serious?”

“Yes!” Cosette insisted. 

Grantaire chewed on his lip, cogs working in his brain. “But… what do I  _ do _ ?” 

Cosette's eyes turned to Eponine, a loving look in them. “When it comes to romance, I tend to find that remembering something personal to her--  _ him!  _ I meant him.” She turned immediately away from Eponine, bright red, and trying to hide behind her blonde curtains of hair. “Remembering something personal he's talked about and using that somehow should work.” 

Grantaire and Montparnasse were doing their best to hold back laughter from second hand embarrassment and Eponine was looking at Cosette in a state of shock, eyes wide, hardly believing what she thought she'd heard. “Sette?” 

Cosette turned back to her looking helpless. “I'm sorry, I should have told you! And I'm sorry you didn't know, and I'm sorry for everything I did, and it's fine if you don't feel the same way, but--”

“Cosette,” Eponine cut her off, looking both cautious and hopeful. “What do you mean by that?” 

Sighing and twisting her hands in her lap, Cosette shook her head. “Don't pretend you don't know now,” she pleaded, and Eponine grinned, slipping a hand around the side of Cosette’s neck and pulling her into a kiss, light dancing off their newly joined bodies.  

Eyes widened, Montparnasse and Grantaire turned back to one another. “Well then,” said Grantaire, a smirk tilting his mouth. “Glad they  _ finally  _ got themselves sorted.” 

“I suppose it's better than the poor confused dears thinking they were just super good friends,” Parnasse said.

Chuckling, Grantaire stood up from his stool and dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, I'm off to go plan some kind of grand gesture. Or sleep off the drink and do that tomorrow,” he pondered. “You can either stay here and watch your sister get it on with your friend,” -Parnasse grimaced at the thought- “ _ Or  _ you can go find our lovely little Prouvaire, who's lurking around here somewhere having a whale of a time. And yes,” Grantaire winked, “there's a right answer here.” 

A few seconds after Grantaire left, Montparnasse rose without excusing himself from a giggling Cosette and Eponine to his right, and headed off through the house in search of Jehan. 

 

In the end, it was Jehan who found him. Just outside the kitchen, where all the drinks were being stored until someone swept them off for themselves, Montparnasse heard his name being called by a bright voice. He turned abruptly, recognizing the voice, now hearing people around him whispering “shit,” and “do they want to get themself killed?” and “what the fuck” among other things, and saw Jehan standing on a chair by the kitchen door, their hair out in its full glorious mane, and large floral prints on their button up. 

Parnasse’s eyes widened, realising Jehan’s safety was in danger, being both possibly intoxicated and standing on a possibly unstable object. He took a few quick strides across the space between them, unceremoniously pushing past others standing in the way who didn't clear the way for him, and grabbed their hand which wasn't holding a cup, and their waist to help them off the chair. 

“Montparnasse!” Jehan exclaimed again, mouth stretched into a grin as they stepped down off the chair. “I didn't know you'd be here.” They leant up on their toes and kissed Montparnasse on the cheek. 

Trying not to appear flustered (because seriously, the two of them had done more than cheek kisses by now, what the fuck), Parnasse gave a bemused look. “I'm always at these parties. It's  _ you  _ I'm surprised to see.” 

Jehan waved away the unusual nature of them being there. “I came with Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet, but they disappeared, so I've had a few drinks, and admired plenty of nice paintings. I  _ love  _ the 19th century stuff. Particularly the Romantic era. I'm in Literature with Lane, so I knew he knew about that sort of art, but his parents have some real taste!” Realising how intently he was gazing at Jehan, Parnasse blinked and cleared his throat. 

“This stuff’s nothing,” he said, head shaking, preferred cocky aura retained. Thinking of The last time he'd been at a party at Lane’s house, he continued. “The paintings they have upstairs are the ones you really want to see.” 

Jehan’s whole expression brightened at his words, their grin excited and nervous all at once, though Parnasse isn't quite sure why they're nervous… “Really?” they asked, slipping a hand up around Montparnasse’s neck. They tilted their head down and blinked up at Parnasse in a way that could only be described as sultry. “Show me?” 

Montparnasse gulped while he nodded, keeping a confident expression. He didn't think he'd ever met someone who felt quite so strongly about good art but he did find that he was… sort of into it… “Sure.” He turned vaguely in the direction of the stairs, gesturing. “Shall we?” 

Jehan held onto Parnasse’s hand a little tight to just be affectionate as they climbed the stairs, and was focussing too hard on every step up the royal blue carpeted stairs to look at Parnasse while they babbled. Clearly they'd had more than just one drink, even if they weren't exactly drunk. 

Montparnasse bit his lip to hold back a smile at Jehan’s incessant monologue on their favourite paintings. He lead them down the hall to a painting that gave him particular pleasure: It pictured a ship on a stormy sea with monsters hidden in the shapes of the waves, the dark clouds streaked with lightning. 

“Wow,” said Jehan, gazing with awe at the painting, eyes darting up towards Parnasse, full of nerves. “It's beautiful.” 

The awe was expected, but the nerves? Uncharacteristic at best… It worried “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?” Montparnasse rubbed his thumb over the back of Jehan’s hand, which was still in his own. 

Jehan giggled and fixed their eyes entirely on Parnasse. “I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine.” They turned to face him completely, and put their arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Really. I'm not even drunk. I'm perfect.”

“I know,” Parnasse returned with a small grin, feeling steadier with that assurance. Jehan laughed, eyes closing up and leaned right in, fitting their lips against his. 

The kiss started out slow and loving, Jehan's fingers playing with the short-cut hair at the nape of Montparnasse’s neck, and Montparnasse himself sliding his arms around their waist and running his nails up and down their spine. 

Parnasse heard himself moan into Jehan’s mouth, and they responded by deepening the kiss, clinging to him desperately as if trying to mold their bodies together. Jehan tasted of grape and cranberry and alcohol, and Montparnasse felt himself wanting more before his mind had registered it. 

That is how Parnasse found himself pushing Jehan's slight body up against the blank wall across the hall from the painting, gripping their hips tightly, and kissing down their neck and-- wait. Stop. No, he couldn't do this right now. Parnasse drew back a bit to lock eyes with Jehan and relaxed his hands on them. Jehan's expression was one of total enjoyment, but it faltered now that Montparnasse was no longer touching them in the same way. 

“Are you okay?” they asked, and Montparnasse nodded jerkily, darting his tongue out to lick his lips, tasting Jehan on them. Jehan ran their hands down Parnasse’s arms, taking his hands and grinning, a look of mischief about them. “I think,” they said, turning the pair of them and walking backwards towards an open door, pulling Montparnasse with them, “that you should show me some more of all this…  _ art  _ in this room over here.” 

Parnasse's brain was working at a million miles a minute. On the one hand, yes, he wanted to go in that room with Jehan.  _ Shit _ , he wanted to. On the other hand, a few… issues would certainly come up if he did. Issues that he was definitely not ready for Jehan or anyone else to encounter yet. It would be rude and disrespectful towards Jehan to start something physically and call it off without explanation, and even more so to simply surprise them, and though Montparnasse was okay with being rude or disrespectful to most people, Jehan did not fall into that group. 

“No,” he said the moment he'd figured it out, sounding rather abrupt. Jehan's eyebrows jumped in surprise, then lowered in a frown.

“Oh?” they questioned, ceasing all movement, but holding their grip on Montparnasse’s hands. 

“Yeah, I don't really…”

“That's okay,” Jehan said, dropping Parnasse's hands and sticking theirs in their pockets. They looked a little disappointed and  _ incredibly  _ sheepish. “I just thought… when you mentioned  _ ‘going upstairs’  _ you meant… you know…” 

“Wh-what? N-no! I wouldn’t-- I mean I'm not… No,” Montparnasse stammered out, taking half a step back, and sounding far more horrified than he'd intended. 

Jehan nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Right. Of course. I shouldn't have assumed that you… nevermind.” They sighed and brought a smile to their face before locking eyes with Parnasse again. “Should we go downstairs again then?” 

Everything felt stilted and unnatural between them now and Montparnasse was uncertain as to how he should react. He gave an awkward “okay” and followed Jehan back down the steps towards the main hub of the party. 

Jehan was clearly doing all they could to make it seem like they were completely okay with what had just happened, but Parnasse could tell otherwise. “Who did you actually come here with?” Ah yes, a classic small talk starter. How riveting Parnasse found that. 

“Just friends. We go to most of the parties together as a group.” 

Jehan raised their eyebrows and gave an amused look. “Ah, is that your little gang of dark mysterious fellows?” they asked. 

(Montparnasse noticed they hadn't reached for his hand as they normally did.) “We're hardly a  _ gang,  _ and Eponine is included in that. But yes, I came with them. And Cosette, actually. Funny, that…” At Jehan's questioning look, he went on. “This is her first house party and she made me bring her. And she and Eponine finally figured out their feelings, so that's a plus. I guess.”

He glanced over at Jehan to see them looking rather excited about that last fact. “It's so great when people get together! Oh, I'm happy for them. Hey,” they derailed suddenly, looking over Montparnasse's shoulder. “Isn't that your group of friends?” 

Spinning around, Parnasse followed their gaze over to the sofa he'd previously been sat on where Cosette, Eponine, Gueulemer, Brujon, and Claquesous were indeed sitting, both on and around the sofa, Cosette’s dress standing out brilliantly against the mostly-black choices of the others. The low pounding music and talking dulled in Parnasse's ears, the smoky room seeming to be even smokier, just for a second. In a way that felt exceptionally slow, Montparnasse turned back to Jehan who smiled innocently back.  _ Oh god, please no,  _ his voice sounded in his ears.  _ Please can they not. Not right now.  _

“Yes,” he said. “Yeah, that's them. Most of them, anyhow.” Even his voice sounded foreign to his ears. 

“Well,” Jehan went on, slipping their fingers between Montparnasse’s. “Do you think maybe we should go over there? I mean… they're  _ your  _ friends. Eponine and I get on, and maybe you could introduce me to the others.” They gave a little laugh and nudged Parnasse in the side. “You know all  _ my  _ friends after all.” 

Parnasse wanted to say something. He almost tried to, but he was frozen in space and time, simply looking at Jehan. Guiltily, apologetically. 

The soft movements of their fingers against his own ceased, and their smile faded a little. “Parnasse? What's going on?” 

Trying to act as if nothing was up at all, Montparnasse shrugged and tried to pull off his default expression. “Eh, nothing. It's just… I don't know if you'd want to meet them. They're sort of… well. You've heard some rumours I'm guessing.” 

“I've  _ heard  _ the rumours, and I  _ still  _ want to meet them,” said Jehan, clearly doing their best to sound playful and not irate. “They're your friends! I care about you. I want to know them too. Come on, it'll be fun,” they laughed, then paused, taking Montparnasse’s expression in. “Or… do you not want me to meet them?” 

Montparnasse said nothing. The party continued around them. 

“So you don't want me to meet them then. Is it because you're ashamed of me?” Though their voice was calm, Jehan's eyes were blazing and defiant, staring him down with a look as hurt as it was furious. 

Parnasse shook his head, guilt welling up inside him. “Jehan, I--”

“Because I wouldn't blame you, you know?” they went on, their voice cracking slightly, showing the anger and hurt they were trying so hard to hide. “Who wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with me? I get that you don't want me to meet your friends, making you look like a freak just for being with me, and tarnishing your straight-boy reputation, or whatever it is you’re trying to preserve.”

“What? No, of course that’s not--” Parnasse tried, but Jehan cut him off. 

“Save it. I really don’t need to hear your excuses right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not angry that you didn’t want to sleep with me, even if you  _ do  _ go around fucking girls every other weekend.” More bewildered than before, Montparnasse tried to interject, but before he could, Jehan was off again. “I  _ am  _ upset that the reason behind that was because of my identity, that you sounded so disgusted at the suggestion, and yes, I’m even more upset that you’re too ashamed of me to even have me meet your friends. Here’s a question for you: do you even like me?” 

Montparnasse struggled to find the right words to piece together while his insides felt compressed into a tiny ball at the base of his throat. “Wha-- Jehan… of course--” he began, reaching a hand out towards Jehan’s own, which they tore away, taking a step back. 

“Call me when you figure that one out,” said Jehan, whipping around, making to leave, but then they hesitated and turned back to Parnasse as he looked on, desperate to do or say something to make Jehan stay, to make them change their mind, but too afraid to do so. “Or better yet,” they added, “don’t.” 

Montparnasse made no attempt to follow them. He simply watched Jehan’s pink and turquoise shirt disappear amongst the sea of monochromatic, smiling people. 

 

*

 

Though he’d woken early, Enjolras was still having trouble directing his focus onto schoolwork that Saturday morning at eleven, when Montparnasse was awake. Enjolras groaned and gritted his teeth. It was obvious that Parnasse was awake, an clearly having a bad day, because instead of the usual quiet sounds of films playing over the TV, obnoxious metal was being blasted from his room. Though Enjolras respected that people had very different tastes when it came to things like art and music, he couldn’t understand how that… that  _ noise _ was remotely considered music. 

Okay, so maybe Parnasse’s previous evening had gone so terribly that he couldn’t take his mind off it in any other way than too-loud sound, but in that moment, Enjolras just couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t bring himself to be anything but frustrated in any walk of life, if he was honest. Frustrated at his friends (who had done nothing but try to help him), frustrated at his work (which usually just helped him keep his mind off other things), and now even more frustrated at his brother who really didn’t need to be playing  _ anything _ that loudly  _ ever _ . 

Absolutely unable to concentrate, Enjolras smacked his laptop shut harder than would probably be advisable, and stormed out of his room, across the hall, and reached for Parnasse’s doorknob. Finding the door locked, he began hammering on the dark wood, shouting what he hoped was loud enough to hear over that dreadful screaming. 

“Parnasse? Parnasse! Turn that shit  _ down _ ! Parnasse, open this door right now I need to talk to you!” To Enjolras’ immense surprise, Montparnasse actually responded, opening the door. He looked terrible. His hair wasn’t done, he was dressed only in boxers and an old band tee-shirt, his eyebrows were sparse and bare, and his eyes looked heavy and pink. For a split second Enjolra wished he ared about all those factors. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, is that necessary?” Montparnasse asked rubbing at his eyes. 

Enjolras huffed, pursing his lips. “Yes, it’s fucking necessary. I can’t hear myself  _ think  _ with that shit playing. 

Running his eyes up and down Enjolras’ body, Montparnasse scowled at him, shifting his weight from one foot to another and raising an eyebrow.. “Did you ever consider that maybe I don’t give a shit?” 

“Oh don’t you play that with me. I can’t deal with it right now.” 

Cocking his head, Parnasse forced a smirk. “Play what exactly?” 

Enjolras was rapidly clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. “Just…  _ ugh  _ I’ve just had a really hard week and I don’t want to have to deal with you right now. Can’t you just turn the music off?” 

Very unexpectedly, Parnasse actually lifted his phone and stopped the music playing over his speakers, but now he was glaring at Enjolras with a whole new kind of venom. When he spoke, his voice was soft, low, and standing on the precipice of lashing out. “I see. You’ve had a bad week, have you? Maybe it didn’t occur to you to respect the fact that your least favourite family member might not be having such a great time either?” 

With an incredulous scoff, Enjolras threw up his hands in a defensive way. “Don’t you dare try to play the victim here. It’s your fault I’m in this mess in the first place! You’re the one who made me take that stupid bet, and it’ just messed everything up!” 

“Okay, first of all,” said Montparnasse, “I never  _ made  _ you do anything. You took that bet of your own free will. Second, you  _ won  _ that bet, and got a whole lot of money out of it. Thirdly, you messed everything up for me by making me ask out  _ your  _ friend. And also, you were the one who thought it was a great idea to ask out Grantaire when you didn’t even like him, and you’re telling me  _ I  _ messed things up for you?” 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ try to tell me how I feel about Grantaire,” Enjolras snapped. They were both shouting at this point, letting out the hurt and anger they both felt. “You have no idea. And if Jehan finally figure out what a terrible person you are, then  _ good _ ! You don’t deserve someone like that anyway.” 

Parnasse flinched but was quick to come back. “Do you think Grantaire still wants  _ you  _ after what he said? Because he definitely won’t when he finds out it was all on a bet. Were you ever planning on telling him? Planning on revealing what a fake, thoughtless little shit you are?” Somewhere in the background, they heard the vague opening of a door. 

“Boys.”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so  _ insecure  _ you wouldn’t be so upset about Jehan dumping you, or whatever happened,” Enjolras spat. 

“ _ Boys _ .”

“At least I have friends who aren’t solely united over political beliefs, who I care more about than some fucking  _ cause _ .”

“At least I have friends who aren’t fucking  _ criminals _ \--”

“ _ BOYS!”  _

Called back to the real world, Enjolras and Montparnasse noticed that Cosette was standing right beside them, looking sternly from one to the other. “What’s going on here?” The two brother shot each other a glare before looking back at their sister, not saying a word. “Fine, don’t tell me. I heard it all anyway. You do remember what this argument started with, don’t you?” Feeling somewhat shameful at the memory, Enjolras glanced down at his feet. Cosette gave them a few seconds of silence before breaking it again. “Music volume. This clearly isn’t about music anymore, is it?”

“Clearly,” Parnasse spat at Enjolras, but he rolled his eyes and left it once Cosette gave him a disapproving look. 

“Now I know I’m your little sister,” Cosette went on, “but you two need to sort this out. You can’t keep fighting like this!” 

Eyebrow raised, Parnasse faced her. “And what exactly do you expect me to do with this insulting brother of mine?” 

“I’m standing right here Parnasse!” 

Before Montparnasse could come up with another retort, Cosette cut in again. “I understand! You’re both upset, yeah? And you’re both upset over relationship-related things. Just because you made a mistake Parnasse, doesn’t mean it can’t be solved, and it doesn’t make you a terrible person. And Enj? I assure you that Grantaire didn’t mean anything he said.” She gave both of the a hard shove into Montparnasse’s room. “Now you both sit on that bed and hae chat, or something!”

Sitting side by side, not facing one another on Parnasse’s bed, the air between them was still and silent. Knowing Montparnasse wouldn’t be the one to apologise first, Enjolras sighed. 

“I’m sorry bout what I said. You’re allowed to be upset.” Beside him, Montparnasse breathed out heavily. Okay, baby steps, Enjolras thought and continued. “And it’s not your fault I messed up. That’s on me.” 

“I know you really care about your friends,” said Parnasse, unannounced. “An about R.” 

Enjolras nodded solemnly. “You deserve someone like Jehan. You deserve to be happy, you know. And they do really like you, even if I have no idea what went on last night.”

“Yeah,” Parnasse said heavily. “You deserve that too.” He paused, tracing the lines of his picture frames with his eyes. “You really have to tell him though. Tactfully.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Enjolras tangled his fingers in it and tugged. “I know. I’m so fucked up.” 

Suddenly, Montparnasse gave a harsh laugh. “Look at us: romantic hopeless cases, drowning in self hatred and hatred of each other.”

Enjolras turned his face towards his brother, a frown on his fine features. “I don’t hate you,” he said. 

“No,” Montparnasse replied. “No, I guess I find it hard to hate you too.” 

And then, for what felt like the first time in years, the two boys shared something that made them feel a little less alone in that hapless time. They shared a smile. 

Unable to maintain the moment, Parnasse gave a small laugh and shook his head. “Now clear out of here. That’s enough sappy stuff for the year.”

With a tut and a laugh in response, Enjolras complied without a fuss. “So long as you don't turn that damn music up again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave any/all comments below! I always love hearing readers' thoughts! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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